


Bite the Hand

by CoffinInk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Romance, Fighting to Things Related to Fucking, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Reluctant Relationship, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Strangulation, traumatic pasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffinInk/pseuds/CoffinInk
Summary: Severus didn't mean to reach his hand out and grab Black, pressing him up against the wall. It was instinctual.Sirius can't stop thinking about it. He's angry, humiliated, and ready to get back at Snape.Kissing him is not what he had in mind, but the world has turned unpredictable.Neither seems to have as much self-control as they want when it comes to the other.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape, Sirius Black & Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 33
Kudos: 143





	1. Picture the Mess I'd Make

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to TowardTheStars for being an incredibly supportive and encouraging beta. This would never in a million years have been written without them.
> 
> ~
> 
> The title of the work is inspired by the songs "The Hand that Feeds" by Nine Inch Nails and "Bite the Hand" by boygenius.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Severus Snape.” Sirius called out the name, his voice dripping with malice. He knew of the danger shouting carried. The Order members were supposed to leave quietly and discreetly. The neighbours weren't to even know anyone unusual visited the area, but Sirius’s hate for Snape overwhelmed the reasonable portion of his mind. Their last engagement had humiliated Sirius: he had done nothing to defend himself. He had come up with no clever retort. And now, weeks later, he still had no clue as to why Severus had done such a thing. The memory of Snape’s thin hand stopping him, turning him around and-. 

He needed to stop thinking about it. The encounter had been strange, sure, but then again so was everything Severus Snape did. The thoughts would abandon his mind, his consciousness would move on, so long as he evened the scales with Snape. He planned to do so now as he couldn't go another week with the memories of Snape flashing through his mind.

Sirius’s mind drifted momentarily to the events of the last week. _Sirius in a bar. Sirius in bed. Her mouth against his cock. Severus entering his mind. Sirius crying out. The girl grinning. Sirius realising what happened. Sirius denying it. Sirius blocking it out of his mind._

Until it happened again, the following night. And two nights after that.

“Black,” Severus hissed, his back still facing Sirius, who jolted at the sound of it. Speaking directly to Snape after everything in the past weeks itched with discomfort, more so than usual, and Sirius felt unmoored. He only knew he needed to get back at him; he needed to take back dominance and control. 

Sirius smirked. He wondered how much more he would have to say before Severus cracked and strategically countered. Snape’s lack of cooperation angered Sirius. He wanted the idiot to _react_ , to do something that would give him a decent enough reason to physically hurt him, if only a little. He wanted to push the infuriating prick up onto the outerwall of Grimmauld Place and sweep his long dark hair out of his eyes. And most of all, he assured himself, he wanted to teach Severus that he was not someone to mess with. 

Severus turned around, his face unreadable. To an outsider, one would have thought that the comment left Severus unperturbed. However, as Sirius had grown quite adept at gleaning the concealed emotions hidden behind the stony features of Snape’s pale face, he was pleased to see anger and mild annoyance flash through his eyes as he turned around to face him. Severus said nothing, almost daring Sirius to react, to act out on impulse. 

Severus realised he was agitated; he had acted out of character weeks previously. If word got back to the Dark Lord that he had interacted with someone other than those with whom he did so out of necessity… He feared what would happen to him. The Dark Lord did not take kindly to transgressors. 

Working for Voldemort left him void of any energy. Before, he would go to a bar, pick up a desperate girl, bring her home, and fuck her. Sometimes she would stay the night, sometimes he would throw her out. He used to have his fair share of contact with other people, especially on the weekends. These days however, Severus had no energy left to go out, much less to fuck anyone. He hadn’t been touched in months.

No one gave Severus Snape hugs. No one patted his back in encouragement. He presented himself as cold and calculated, and intentionally so. He could never let anyone in. He had loved before, and the hurt it had caused him was unbearable. He could never love again. 

Severus understood of course. Alone at home, he never craved the touch of another. He never sat around idly, contemplating the logistics of an actual relationship that spanned beyond sex. He hardly even thought about the touch of another these days. After meeting with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters, sometimes he could hardly stand. There were times he could scarcely find the strength to aparate to the perimeters of Hogwarts. Severus remembered with shame the events of the night Voldemort had returned. Albus had known that Voldemort would punish Severus, so he had sent Minerva to wait for the man. 

She had found him crumpled outside the entrance, visions of the night replaying through his mind. She had sat next to him, not strong enough to carry his weight, frail and skinny as he was, but never leaving his side. She talked to him, bringing him out of his post-torture haze. She told him of her days of Hogwarts, what had changed and what hadn’t. Severus didn’t know Minerva cared enough about him to have stayed with him the whole time; it must have been at least an hour before he had enough energy to stand.

Once he heaved his shaking mass to his feet, she supported him. She left him only when they reached the dungeons, offering to come with him, concern floating in the surfaces of her eyes. Severus declined; he would not burden her any further. 

That was the last time anyone had held him. 

He didn’t realise his desperation until Black’s shoulder grazed him, awakening a need he didn’t know he had inside of him. Severus had, on impulse, grabbed his arm, turned him, and pinned him against the wall. Severus wanted to tell himself he didn’t know why he had done it, but being an intelligent person such as himself, he knew the reason. When he had felt Sirius Black’s skin come into contact with his long robes, he wanted more. He didn’t want Black - he hated, loathed, was _disgusted_ by the man - he just wanted any human contact. No, he _needed_ it, and the only way he had thought to do so was to press Black up against the corridor. He had spoken softly, in a low voice, enunciating each syllable. He heard the words punctuating the silence, heard himself telling Black to never touch him in passing again, when he desired nothing more than just that.

Now though, with Black glaring angrily at him from across the front lawn, he regretted the impulsive move. Severus sighed, knowing he would have to deal with Black’s foolish response. He was sure that Black grappled with insecurities at having been dominated, even for a brief moment. 

Severus began to remove his wand from the pocket of his robes. He realized moments later that this was not a wise move; Black saw it as a sign that Severus was going to attack. Severus, lost in his thoughts of Voldemort and Minerva and even Black from a fortnight ago, missed when Black pulled out his own wand, disarming Severus far too easily. He stood defenseless against an irritated wizard, which did not bode well with his sense of security. 

Black surprised Severus by tossing his own wand to the side. 

“No magic,” Sirius said, his lips curving upwards into a malevolent grin. Severus knew he should be scared, but having dealt with far worse - including Black as a child - he smiled back. 

It was not a pretty smile, but a taunting one. Sirius strode forward and pushed Snape, causing him to stumble backwards. Snape did not push back. He hardly reacted at all, which only angered Sirius further. 

Sirius had thrown his wand to the floor for a fair fight. He had decided that he wanted to fight Snape and win. He knew he was stronger than the other man, but he wanted to give his opponent a chance to fight back. Something inside of him needed to prove to Snape and to himself that Snape was _nothing_ to him.

Snape finally landed a punch, and Sirius spat the blood into the clean lawn. He rushed forward, feigning a punch to the face and instead going for the gut, catching Severus by surprise. With Severus gasping for air, Sirius lifted him by the collar of his robe and smashed his body into the exterior of the Order headquarters. He trapped his adversary similarly to how the man had trapped him. Sirius bathed in his triumph; he had Snape exactly where he wanted him: wandless, powerless, and completely at Sirius’s mercy - a mercy Azkaban had stripped him of.

Sirius sneered. Then, without thinking, he leaned forward and licked the blood from Severus's face. The coppery tang stung his tongue and he pulled away sharply. 

Sirius, disgusted with himself and unsure of why he had done such a thing, brought his knee to Severus’s groin. Severus moved to double over in pain, but Sirius held him to the wall. His mind spun. Sirius remembered reaching orgasm only after Severus drifted into his mind the past weeks, and a surge of hate overtook him.

Sirius pressed his mouth to the other man’s harshly. Snape belonged to him, not the other way around. 

He would have Snape beg for him.

  
  



	2. Use Me

Sirius wanted to make Snape scream. He wanted Snape to beg for release, to beg him to fuck him. He wanted the man to be miserable. Humiliated. Sirius wanted to dominate. 

He pushed Snape down onto the bed, craving Snape’s pain, but knowing he had to pleasure him first. He crouched on top of him, letting his teeth and lips move across the tender flesh. Snape leaned into it, letting Sirius do as he pleased. Sirius moved his mouth across his enemy’s chest, continuing downward until he reached the edge of Severus’s boxers. He pulled them down hurriedly. Sirius needed to hurry up a bit: he was bothered by the extent that this was turning him on. 

Severus didn’t mind what Sirius was doing to him. He didn’t know why Black wanted his mouth on Severus’s cock, or why Black had dragged him to his room. He supposed Sirius planned to fuck him as well, but that would never happen. He would let Black touch him, his hands gliding across his chest, his nails biting into his shoulder. He would let the man bring him to climax. No, he would _make_ Black do so. Severus needed his wand though; he knew Black had more physical strength than he did. He looked down. Black had busied himself with his length, and had started to pant. Severus faked a moan, using the sound to cover his near-silent spell.

Black’s wand and his own flew into Severus’s hand. He would wait until he needed to use the wand to let Black know that he had them. The power felt good, nearly intoxicating. 

Snape had to admit that Black knew what he was doing. His mouth and hands moved together to create an impossible pleasure. 

_Maybe it was his desperation talking,_ Severus thought. Months ago, he would have never let the man do this to him, but now, for whatever reason, Black’s strong fingers pressing into his thighs felt electric. He arched his hips upwards, willing Black to keep going. It felt good, too good. Severus didn’t want it to stop. 

Too soon, Black’s hands gripped Severus’s hips to the bed. He smiled madly, his eyes suggesting an intense desire for something Severus could not entirely pin down. 

Sirius felt an exhilaration course through him, unlike anything he had felt since before Askaban. A terrible laugh escaped him as he looked down at Snape below him.

“Beg for me, Snivellous,” Sirius said with as much control as he could muster. Snape did not respond, his only reaction to the change in position being his hips twitching upwards every so slightly, trying to achieve the final release. Sirius brought his lips to Snape’s ear and bit hard on the lobe. He tracked his tongue down Snape’s neck once more, suckling on the soft and sensitive areas. Severus moaned quietly, as if he were trying to suppress it. 

Sirius laughed once more, whispering into the ear he was already abreast to, “ _Beg_ for me to fuck you.” He reached a hand down to Snape’s jerking cock, tracing it with his smooth fingertips. Severus exhaled, a soft groan escaping him, then inhaled too quickly when the touch was taken away. “You _will_ scream my name.”

Snape tried to think of a clever response, but his mind had grown hazy from the need to come.

“How much longer do you think you can hold out, bitch?” Then softer, directly into Snape’s ear, “ _You’re mine now._ My _bitch.”_

It was then that Severus chose to pull out the wand. Severus’s emotions coursed through the slender piece of wood, and the tip of the wand began to heat up to the point that it smoldered . Severus pressed it into Black’s chin. Sirius froze, confidence draining from his face. 

“You _will_ ,” Severus stressed, and paused. “Suck me dry. You don't want to test my patience, Black.”

Sirius opened his mouth, fury burning through him, but the realisation that Snape could hurt him badly - could even kill him - washed over him. Severus pressed the blistering wand into the underside of Black’s chin more forcefully, leaving what he hoped would result in a small scar. Severus let himself relax as Sirius did as he asked, bringing him to climax. When he came, he looked down at Sirius, their gazes snaring, anger meeting triumph and melding into desire. The moment ended, and they each pulled away, unsure of what had just happened.

Severus quickly dressed, shrugging his robe back onto his bony shoulders. He left the room, leaving Sirius alone, fully dressed and with a burning erection. Sirius stumbled with his confusion. _How did this happen? How did Snape walk out of the room, having gotten Sirius to do such things? How would he face the man ever again?_

Outside Grimmauld Place, Severus began to sweat, too much for it to have been from the heat. Severus relished the feeling inside him: indescribable, but resolutely there. Nothing more would ever come of it, but Severus liked knowing that he had put Sirius Black, the tormenter of his youth, in such a state. 

\--------

The day was nearing it’s close, but Severus was deeply preoccupied with preparing the course for the upcoming school year. His brow furrowed as he attempted to determine the best way to teach the students each formula and the potions they would be studying. Severus saw potions as an art; rules existed, but one could modify them to make them their own: to perfect them, enhance them. 

Severus looked up as the door to the classroom flew open, swinging on its hinges. Sirius Black stood in the doorway. Black looked furious, his breathing ragged and a rip across his shirt. Black closed the door, and muttered a quick silencing spell. Then he began to walk unsteadily forward, throwing hexes and jinxes at the sitting Severus Snape. 

_I’m here to defend my dignity_ , Sirius told his drunken self. He had been so _tired_ , so _sick_ , of staying in his mother’s home, the very place he had fled from as a teen. He had gone out to the bar. He had to get out. _Sure, it was reckless, but who-_ Sirius paused, wondering where the thought was going. He shrugged it off, rolling his neck in an attempt to relieve some of the tension present in his upper back. 

Severus stood quickly, deflecting Black’s attacks from himself towards the shelves of carefully stacked potions ingredients. Something seemed off with the man, so he refrained from sending any extravagantly harmful curses back towards Black. The man let out a noise between a grunt and a scream. His body swayed slightly as he moved closer and closer to Severus. 

Black was so close now that Severus could smell the alcohol on his breath. Black’s motions, almost languid, made sense: he was completely wasted. Severus felt a tremor pass across his skin involuntarily. _He was 9. His father had just taken out the belt, and he was cowering with the cobwebs in a shadowy corner, his stomach tattooed with bruises. Severus at 13, washing bits of glass out of his bloody shoulder. Severus was 16, pointing his wand at his father, swearing at the mother he hadn’t seen in years for leaving him with such a monster._

No, Black was not like his father. It didn’t matter if he was; Severus was more powerful than Black. He could defend himself if necessary. 

Severus took a breath and focused on the present. Black stumbled forward, his hands coming into contact with Severus’s chest. The hands searched for an opening; they wanted _skin._

“Take… me, my _body._ I want you to _fuck_ me,” Sirius slurred, his body swaying around. His palms remained pressed onto Snape’s robes. Sirius wanted Snape, wanted the man that continued to surface in his dreams. Sirius wanted Snape to fuck him so that his desire for the man would go away. Sirius wanted sex to go back to how it had been _before,_ void of all thoughts of Severus Snape. Black moaned, throwing his whole body onto Severus’s, his breathing intensifying. 

Severus sighed, exasperated and tired of Black’s ever-present immaturity. If the man wasn’t wholly intoxicated, Severus would be tearing their clothes off. He would be pressing his mouth into Black’s just to feel something, anything, but Severus couldn't do that to the drunken man. Not when the pleas for sex and touch were not entirely his own. Severus steeled his emotions and smothered his desire. Black’s hands had moved to his arse, and Severus pushed them away. _Black’s losing himself,_ thought Severus. 

Sirius’s hands found their way onto his neck and his back, and he breathed, “You’ll fuck me, Snivellous.”

Sirius stretched some of the syllables out for too long, his voice swaying as much as his body did.

“I see your moments of- of _weakness,_ when you lean into my kisses, when your crotch is… it’s alive.” Black laughed madly. He hardly knew what he was saying as the night blurred in front of him.

“You want to... to fuck me. You’re _going_ to need to, when there’s no one else. There won’t be anyone else, Snivellous, no one will want you, because you - you’re still _mine_ … my disgusting little whore now.”

Sirius backed away, unsure of where his words came from, but hoping they came across as minimally coherent. They might even be true for all he knew. With a crack he was gone, leaving Snape alone outside the great castle.

  
  



	3. Turned Me Loose

Sirius seethed with rage at the thought of Severus Snape. He wanted to rip each limb from Snape’s body, wanted to hear Snape scream, anguish piercing the room. There was a hunger inside of him, a hunger that only Snape’s emotional and physical destruction would satisfy. He wanted to fuck the man, to force his dominance on him. Sirius wasn’t sure why he had begged the man to fuck him nights before.

He blamed the alcohol. 

Sirius’s memories were hazy, and he had struggled the past few days to decipher what exactly had happened. The last thing he remembered clearly was sitting down on a worn red leather barstool in his favorite bar, the bar that reminded him of James and of a happier world. Sirius smiled fondly at the echo of James that passed through his mind for a brief moment. His joy at the memory was weak in comparison to the grief that suddenly overwhelmed him. 

His heartache only strengthened his consuming hatred for Snape. _Snape was the reason James was dead. Snape was the reason Sirius was- he was, well it didn't matter,_ Sirius told himself, but really he couldn't bring himself to admit that he knew, deep down, that there was something broken inside him. Sirius couldn't sleep at night; the visions of Azkaban tormented his mind. He would flash back to that _place_ , to the all-consuming feeling of loneliness and helplessness. Azkaban existed as a miserable cold that settled over it’s residents, draining them of energy and will to live. It was only Sirius’s rage - at Peter, at Snape - that kept him alive.

During the day, Sirius could mostly hold himself together. When there were people going in and out of Grimmauld Place, he could keep his mind from escaping him. He just had to focus on everything around him. It was at night, when the house grew quiet and Sirius was alone, all alone, that his mind would slip from his body and return to a frigid echo of his past, leaving his body motionless on the floor, on the bed, in a chair. Sirius could hardly control it sometimes. 

It was even harder to escape his incapacitaed state than to fight it off in the first place. 

Sirius blamed himself for his best friend’s death if he was honest with himself which, truth be told, he rarely was anymore. It was Sirius who had insisted that Peter take on the role of secret keeper, and Sirius alone who was truly to blame. He hated himself for having bullied Snape, leading the boy to think he was worthless, and primed for a sociopathic murder. Azkaban had made him regret his life, the intensity of his remorse too often suffocating him. 

Now though, the dementors didn’t compel him to reflect on his life choices and he was perfectly happy to push the surges of guilt and regret to the back of his head. They surfaced when the cold overtook him, but other than that, Sirius was adept at ignoring them. In fact, Sirius was so good at blocking out all contrition that he found himself perfectly able to condemn Snape rather than himself. 

Sirius remained composed when Snape walked into the order meeting, black cloak flushed behind him, cheeks pale as winter snow. He was late, and the only remaining chairs were located next to Albus and directly adjacent to Sirius. 

Severus’s eyes flicked across the room, taking in the lack of seating options. He didn't move a muscle; no sly expression crossed his face as he placed himself next to his sworn nemesis.

He chose to ignore the stunned look on Black’s face. 

As the meeting was already in progress, Albus addressed Severus with nothing more than a curt nod, a flicker of worry passing across his wrinkled skin. Severus was hardly ever late; the question as to what had withheld his faithful spy bothered him. Severus was supposed to have come by the night before with a report on any new developments, but he had not shown, sending instead a sloppy note. Severus was not messy by nature - altogether the opposite - so Albus had asked Minerva to go and check on Severus. He had made the assumption that Seveurus had undergone a difficult night. As he was the one putting Snape in such danger, he didn't think he would provide much comfort to the man. 

Minerva had returned minutes later, flustered and worried, saying that Snape would not let her in. She scolded Albus, the words tumbling out of her mouth angry and scared. _How could you, Albus, how could you let him put himself in such a position? You’re holding him to a promise he made you when he was what, twenty? Twenty-one? He was still just a boy! I simply cannot fathom why Severus is doing this for you._ Albus had looked up with her, tears bordering his eyes. Minerva had paused, looking down as if ashamed of her outburst. _You didn’t see him, Albus, that night. Shaking, weakened beyond measure. He was - he was an entirely different man than the one who roams the halls here with a face of stone. Albus… He’s in unimaginable pain._ Minerva brought her hand to her mouth, shaking her head. Her voice broke the silence a final time, hardly a whisper, _Voldemort - he isn’t just breaking Severus’s body, Albus._

It was Severus himself whose voice brought Albus back to the present. 

“Headmaster. My report?” Severus asked, his voice slowly washing away the memory of the night before. Albus nodded. He wanted to smile, to laugh, at the sight of Sirius Black so distinctly uncomfortable next to Severus, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He focused himself on the information Severus had started to list; he could only surmise what the man had gone through to attain it. 

Severus, himself felt exhausted. Voldemort had abused him like a toy the night before, and after stumbling home, he had scribbled out a note to Albus, his hand shaking furiously, saying he could not see him that night. He would instead give his report the following night instead or at the order meeting, whichever Albus preferred. He began to speak, and as he did so, he moved his hand underneath the table and onto Black’s leg. He let it rest there, sensing the muscles tense under his palm, feeling Black’s gaze burn into the side of his face.

Severus hated Sirius Black, but he was so _alive._ Black was arrogant and cruel, but just as desperate as Severus was. His skin was so _warm._ Severus remembered from when Black, wasted, had forced contact between them. Black cared about himself, he could see by the way he cared for his hair and the way he would dress for Order meetings even though he was still at home. Unlike Severus, Black could smile without something inside of him breaking. 

Now, when he couldn't close his eyes without hearing the screams, when he couldn't stop thinking for fear of losing himself entirely, Severus craved the heat of Black’s skin, craved the strange comfort it possessed.

Severus wanted Black to pin him to the wall again, their bodies pressed hard and tight together, as Black whispered his threats in his ear. Severus didn’t care about the pain that had come with those moments. The punches to his face, the knee that wedged itself between Severus’s legs. Severus knew pain; it was as familiar as returning home. The ache that Black caused in his limbs didn’t stop him from wanting the contact he provided. 

These were the thoughts that floated through Severus’s mind as he told of the Dark Lord's plans. Severus forced the memories of the night before out of his mind: he needed to separate the abuse he had undergone from the information it had yielded. Severus spoke with as little emotion as possible, desperately trying to detach himself from the images the words he spoke reminded him of.

Sirius knew he needed to be focused on Snape, or rather what he was saying, but Snape was making the task increasingly difficult. The fingers were slender but strong, tracing over the stiff muscle in Sirius’s leg. They reached down, pulling up Sirius’s robe, and snaking onto his bare skin. The hand moved from the top of Sirius’s leg to the inside of his thigh, leaving Sirius practically breathless. Remus glanced at him, concerned and confused as to why Sirius’s breathing had become irregular. Sirius redoubled his efforts to appear in some semblance of normal. 

Then the hand was on his cock, and it was all Sirius could do to keep quiet and suppress the moans that begged to escape him. Severus was masterfully continuing his speech, listing his notes on when Voldemort believed the Order would be transporting Harry - or _Potter,_ as Snape spat the name.

The voice filled Sirius’s head: deep and controlled, something about it driving Sirius completely mad. _God,_ thought Sirius, _that voice. It was enough to make anyone come._ A thumb brushed over Sirius’s tip and then he did come, into the back of his trousers that Snape had pulled back up, the voice reverberating through his head. Sirius couldn't stop himself from inhaling sharply, then gasping, his breaths ragged and short. 

Many heads turned to face him and he faked a sob, blabbering about how worried he was about his _godson_. He thought of Harry, of Harry crying over Diggory’s body last summer and managed to squeeze a tear out of his eye. _It’s all so overwhelming,_ Sirius told them, looking down at the wood table they all sat around. _Losing Harry would be like losing my last tie to James._ He looked back up at them, _Promise me you will do everything in your power to protect him._

Sirius was quite proud of his performance. 

After many solemn nods and murmurs of agreement from various Order members, the discussion of plans continued with minimal other glances towards Sirius. When Snape finished his report, he looked at Dumbledoor and asked if he might leave early as he was _in desperate need of an early night of sleep._

Sirius suppressed a snort. Exhaustion couldn't be the man's true motivation for leaving early _._

Sirius, still an uncomfortable shaking mess, stood as well, excusing himself because he _had a question about a potion to uh - to relieve headaches._ Dumbledoor looked at Severus, who shrugged in ascent, before nodding at Sirius that he was excused. 

Snape was already in the corridor and Sirius, squirming in his pants that hid beneath his long red-trimmed robes, quickened his pace to catch up with the man. Snape turned around, scowling, thin lines appearing on his forehead. 

“What the hell was that?” Sirius demanded. His cheeks had flushed, his breathing not quite regular yet, and his anger had been given fresh kindling. Snape sighed, considering turning back around and heading towards the door. Snape didn’t speak. Sirius’s fury blazed frenziedly in his chest.

Severus looked at Black. The burning fury in his eyes. The feelings he wore so proudly across his red cheeks. He took a step towards him. Severus wanted to kiss those emotions, wanted to lick every inch of Black’s heated skin. Severus was drowning in waves of exhaustion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he did manage to get himself to leave Black. 

Severus heard his breathing intensify but didn’t feel it. He saw Black staring at him, not speaking, but the hunger written across him telling Severus everything he needed to know. He saw Black move forward and saw the hand reach out to grasp his cheek, the other backing him up onto the corridor wall. Severus only began to feel when Sirius was up against him. He felt the mess their mouths created, their teeth scraping against one another, their lips attached by desire and desperation.


	4. Let Me Touch Your Fire

Sirius wished that he wanted to let go of Snape, but he didn’t and couldn't bring himself to do so. He would have held onto that man indefinitely, kissing him and holding him like his life depended on it had they not heard voices rising and approaching them. He felt Snape’s body tense against his own before their contact broke, Snape pushing himself away and moving towards the door. 

It wasn’t that Severus wanted to leave. He yearned to stay, to feel Black’s warmth envelop him and wash away his fear, but when he heard the footsteps nearing them, he instinctively shoved the man away, needing to leave as quickly and abruptly as possible. He had made a mistake, letting himself want Black’s body.

Sirius had never been so conflicted in his life. The rational part of him said to _let Snape leave_. After all, Sirius didn’t think anyone repulsed him more in the world. _There isn’t anyone that you long for in this way either,_ a voice in his head said. Before he could stop himself, before he could remind himself of all the reasons he shouldn't, Sirius reached out and gripped Snape’s wrist. 

“Wait for me. Wait for me until everyone leaves, and I’ll come outside - I’ll come and find you. Wait - just, wait for me, Snape,” Sirius said, surprised as the words flew out of his mouth. Snape didn’t nod. He didn’t drive Sirius back. He neither agreed to wait nor expressed any opposition; he simply turned and left, leaving Sirius confused and agitated. 

Sirius stood by the door, vacancy inundating his eyes, as the members made their way out, a few people at a time. He didn’t know how much time passed before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned himself to face the twinkling eyes of his old headmaster. 

“Headaches, Sirius? You should have told me, perhaps I could have been of some assistance.” Sirius’s heart was pounding. He could hardly hear what Dumbledore was saying over the roaring in his ears. Where was Snape? Would he wait for him, and if he did, what would happen?

“Yes, Headmaster, I apologise. I simply thought - Well, you’re so preoccupied as it is. I didn’t want to add to your worries.”  _ Where was Snape?  _ Sirius forced a smile, praying Dumbledore would leave him be so that he could track down the git. 

After another moment of looking deep into Sirius’s eyes, unease in his own, Albus left. The house grew quiet, the emptiness haunting the hallways. 

Sirius waited a moment before opening the door. He looked out, searching for some sign of Snape. When he didn't see anything, he moved further out into the lawn. Grief and disappointment bore down on him; there was nothing. Sirius moved towards the side of the house, checking for anything, any sign that Snape hadn’t left after all. He stopped when he saw the dried blood smeared across the wall, still there from when they had fought. Sirius trembled slightly, emotions countering themselves and crashing against one another inside his head.

The blood had staled to a foul grey-brown, no longer crimson as it once had been. The color was muted next to the mildew and sage-tinted decay that creeped over the stone, and Sirius pressed his head against the wall, trying to steady himself. Snape was acting like a coward, same as he always had been.  _ Snape might look different these days, but nothing had really changed about him. Snape was rotten, the same arsehole he had known in his adolescence.  _ Sirius picked up his head and carried himself back inside. He settled in an armchair, not wanting to go up to his room alone. 

Time passed too slowly as Sirius’s mind drifted, arguing with itself and with his body, struggling to force the cold away. Sirius was losing himself when the door burst open, revealing Snape standing in the entrance, looking more disheveled than he had earlier in the day. His long black hair hung in greasy strands, framing his chiseled face and pushed up in odd angles. 

He looked as if he had just fucked someone else. 

Sirius received a strange burst of jealousy and anger deep inside of him.  _ Nothing to do with Snape, who was as disgusting as ever,  _ Sirius thought as he tried and failed to shake the feeling.  _ Look at his hair, unclean and such a mess. Who fucking parts their hair in the middle?  _

Severus had, in fact, been trying to get some rest. Everytime he let his mind relax enough to welcome sleep, darkness and fear and his personal living hell would find their way in. He couldn't put down the mental guards he had worked so hard to create and maintain, not even to sleep, not yet. He had not been able to sleep the night before, and his body ached with exhaustion. Black had told him to wait, to come back later. Severus wanted sex, contact, as much as Black appeared to, so he had stood and planned to head back out.

Severus had dressed himself hurriedly; he would return to Black and fuck him, secretly cherishing the warmth of his skin like a delicate gift. Perhaps when he returned home, he could give in to the debilitating fatigue.

Snape slammed the door shut, his hands struggling to turn the key in the lock fast enough. His body radiated power, paralyzingly intense, and Sirius sat frozen in his armchair. Snape walked towards himand stopped as he reached the armchair. He stooped to Sirius’s level, his eyes piercing through Sirius’s skin. Snape didn’t falter as he leaned in and joined their mouths, nor when he reached his hand around to run along the contour of Sirius’s face, fingers pressing so hard they could have left bruises. He kissed Sirius aggressively, as if it satisfied an insatiable hunger. 

Snape slowed the kiss, biting tenderly onto Sirius’s bottom lip. He sucked on it for a moment before pulling away entirely, tilting Sirius’s chin up forcefully so that his gaze had nowhere to go other than directly into his own. 

“What do you want, Black.” It was hardly a question. His breath was hot on Sirius’s cheek, the smell sour but not unpleasant. Sirius had trouble focusing on the words when Snape’s face was so close to his own. 

“Pain, Snape, your fucking  _ pain _ ,” Sirius spat. He inched himself closer to Snape, closer so that he could whisper into his ear:  _ I want you to feel pain. Pain so intense you black out. _ And Sirius did want that, but it wasn’t what he wanted most in that moment, with Snape’s dark eyes piercing the room, staring at his own with so much strength and defiance. Sirius would have given anything to Snape in that moment. 

“I haven’t needed you for that, not in a long, long time.” Severus replied. Sirius had to be the most ignorant man on the planet. Had he truly no idea what Severus went through on a regular basis? Blacking out was a blessing. No, Severus had learned to withstand it, had learned to tolerate the brutal torture and to remain conscious, knowing that the after effects of losing responsiveness hurt far worse. 

Severus didn’t want to think of the agony; not now, when he had returned to Black to get away from just that. He brought his hand away from Black’s face, tracing the lines as he went, letting a fingernail get caught on Black’s lip. He moved his hand down to apply pressure on Sirius's lower half, never breaking eye contact as he went. 

“Snape -  _ ah _ .  _ Snape _ . Why the hell did you come back, what are you-,” Sirius’s breath caught, inhibiting him from finishing his thought. He knew he was aroused, he knew Snape knew it as well.

Severus kissed him again, firmly, his hands leisurely unbuttoning Black’s trousers. He stepped back to pull them down, throwing them aside. Severus knew why he had returned, he had his answer, but he didn’t plan to give it to Black. Not yet; not until he worked for it.

It took all of Sirius’s willpower and a fair amount of his physical strength to push Severus off of him, to stop those  hands from moving across him . Sirius wasn’t self-conscious in regards to his body, but he was glad he was wearing a large muggle shirt when he stood up, his ensemble lacking pants or any sort of bottoms. He held the front of Severus’s robes in his fist; the smile he gave him resembling barred teeth more than anything else. 

Sirius pressed himself flush against Severus, inhaling the musty scent of his old robes, and reaching a hand around to grip his arse before shoving Severus away from him, away from the stairs that he moved himself towards. 

“Your ass better be waiting for me by the time I’ve finished undressing,” Sirius shouted back down to Snape when he reached the top of the stairs. He didn’t turn around to wait for the other man, only shouting back to him.

“As if I would give you the luxury of undressing yourself,” a voice drawled from inside the bedroom. Sirius had forgotten you could Apparate within the house. 

Sirius sighed in frustration; Severus was not easy to dominate despite all of his initial assumptions. When Snape tipped him onto the bed, he found himself melting into the man before he could stop it, and then it was too late; Sirius couldn't walk away. 

Severus swept his tongue along Black’s jaw as he undid his own pants. He broke away to pull off Black’s shirt, and then his own; Severus wanted skin pressed against his own. 

Sirius took the opportunity to flip him over. Snape whined softly, his hips jerking up as Sirius layed on top of him, legs spread, his body fully covering the skinny body with his own. Sirius brought one of his hands down to play with Snape’s length, and slid the other to the back of Severus’s neck, massaging the cold porcelain skin. He moved his body up and down, searching for the right amount of friction.

Severus would have fallen asleep if he wasn’t as aroused as he was. He felt his eyes relax and close as Black’s hands caressed the inches of his skin and started to let go of the walls he had created to keep his memories out. Severus could tell he would finish soon, much too soon, if Black didn’t stop what he was doing  right away.

Severus wasn’t strong enough to throw him off, but he needed the movement to  _ stop _ , needed it to stop  _ right away _ . A fear washed over him; he would finish, and Black would kick him out, leaving him no better than he was before. Severus needed to make it last, needed to let his mental guards down slowly and carefully so he could finally sleep. 

Severus’s breathing grew heavier with his desperation. He couldn't tell Black to stop; the words wouldn't come out. Finally, in a surge of panic, Severus bit down into the man’s shoulder. He pinched the skin on the inside of his legs, nails digging into Black’s thighs.

It was almost unbearable, the way that Snape excited something in him that made him move in a way he never had before. It was almost unbearable, how long Sirius tried to hold out, trying desperately to have Snape finish first. When Snape bit down on his shoulder, the shock of the pain with the intensity of the pleasure overwhelmed Sirius, who came with a shuddering gasp, his eyesight blurring. His hand finished Severus and then he collapsed to the side of the other man. 

Sirius had never felt anything like that. Little compared to the rush of sex with Snape; it surpassed most else Sirius had experienced. He had barely recovered when he felt hands along his legs, deliberate strokes on the underside of his thighs. 

Severus couldn't leave. He needed to fuck Sirius. He needed more time,  _ god _ , anything to get him more time in the company of another. The sex, the touch, the contact… It libearted and it helped him unravel as he let go of his memories. 

Without thinking, he spread Black’s legs, leaning his body between them to suck on the skin of his lower stomach. His hands worked along the length of the other’s cock, paying no attention to the needs of his own. Black had started whimpering; that was good. The first orgasm had tired Black out enough that he didn’t fight against any of Severus’s actions; he issued no protest to being dominated completely. When Black’s hands began to clutch the sheets, Snape slipped a finger into his arse. 

Sirius heard himself cry out at the intrusion, but he was no longer aware or in control of his body. He sensed his hips snapping upwards, forcing himself further onto Snape’s fingers, but he couldn't seem to control it.  _ Maybe the truth is that I don't want to,  _ Sirius realised with a start.

When Snape pulled the fingers out, Sirius overheard his own moans of displeasure. When Snape's hand stroked his cheek briefly, pushing his hair out of his mouth, Sirius tried to steady himself, tried to breathe deeply. When Severus bent himself over Sirius’s body, his silky voice entered his head.  _ I returned, Black, because you’re the most chaotic man I’ve ever known. _

When Sirius felt Snape enter him, he thought the air would leave his lungs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from "Let Me Touch Your Fire," by Arizona.


	5. Criminal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading if you're here!
> 
> I haven't had much (any, actually) motivation to write for the past month or so, and I only have a few more chapters written. I'll try to post them every two or three weeks, and I'm hoping that I can finish the story eventually. 
> 
> Enjoy~

Sirius didn't know what to do with Snape. The man had finished right after he did and then settled himself on top of Sirius, his arms wrapping themselves around his chest. Sirius began to pull his arms out from under the body before deciding against it: Snape looked ridiculously comfortable. _Not that Sirius cared._

Snape’s body was tense and the muscles in his legs were taut, but Sirius surmised that it was less so than usual. The smooth cheek rested lightly on his skin, and the man’s dark hair had matted against his forehead. Sirius noticed that his breathing grew more and more consistent.

Sirius didn’t move Snape off of him as he presumed that the man hadn’t meant to fall asleep on top of him. _Fucking Snivellous,_ Sirius thought, _c_ _an’t even control his own body,_ but he felt an unprecedented surge of empathy. Something had to be wrong for Snape to let himself go in such a manner and for him to fall asleep on Sirius, who he hated with the entirety of his soul. Something had to be wrong because Snivellous was usually more in control of his actions than anyone else Sirius knew. 

_I haven’t needed you for that, not in a long, long time,_ Snape had said when Sirius had said he wanted to cause him great pain. Sirius was troubled, perhaps the man went through more than anyone had any idea about. He itched to find out more about what Snape really did for the Order, about what happened at Voldemort’s meetings. 

Sirius fell into sleep soon after. He was comfortable there, with Snape so close to him. He could feel the other man’s chest rising and falling, could hear his heartbeat thud softly inside the cavity of his chest. Everything was so close between them… It was strange, but it felt so natural. 

\---

Severus knew something was wrong the moment he woke up. His legs were warm from the weight of the blankets, and silken sheets stuck to his sweaty skin. The sun pushed itself through the windows, baring down onto his bare back. He could tell he needed a shower. 

Severus tensed; he never woke up in such warmth, such comfort, with thick blankets piled on top of him. Severus never felt this well rested, not in countless years. Severus hardly slept on a regular basis. 

He began to take note of his surroundings. He was ass naked and face down, his head buried into a soft pillow. It reminded him of waking next to Bellatrix, and for a second he thought he was back with her until the unpleasant realisation hit him.

Severus was in Black’s bed. Sirius fucking Black.

He sat up quickly, shrugging off the covers he had delighted in moments before. He needed to leave, to make himself scarce. Black would not want to see him again; he was just another one of the man’s conquests. _Sleeping with Black had been a terrible mistake._ How he hated his desperation, hated the conditions the Dark Lord would put him in. 

Severus looked around, madly trying to find the different pieces of his outfit he had worn the day before. He pulled on his robes, then quietly slid the door open. He crept down the stairs, unsure if he was alone in the house. No one could know. _God_ , he thought, _one could only pray Black was as horrified with what had occured as he was._ He hoped miserably that Black wouldn't tell anyone; the consequences for such treason would be disastrous.

Black stood in the kitchen, and Severus spent a moment looking at the back of the man’s head. He wondered if he should say something, wondered if he should beg Black not to expose him, but he couldn't find the words. No one knew what the Dark Lord did to Severus or what he would do if he found out. Severus didn’t plan on changing that; especially not for Black. 

\---

Sirius hadn’t forgotten his realisation about Snape and the pain he carried, when he woke the following morning; he just didn’t want to think about it. He had pushed any concerned thoughts out of his head when the sun had risen. Snape was fulfilling whatever role was necessary; he was playing his part in Dumbledore’s grand plan. Snape wasn’t the only man putting himself in danger: it was only natural that he would be as pained as any of the other Order members. _They had all suffered loss,_ thought Sirius with a shudder. 

When he heard the footsteps coming down the stairs, Sirius didn’t turn around. He felt Snape’s eyes linger on his back for a moment before the man closed the door behind him. Sirius simply couldn't face Snape. Not now, after the other man had slept so close to him; not after Sirius had let him. Not now, when Sirius couldn't get the feeling of Snape’s skin off of his chest, couldn't get the taste of the other’s lips to leave his mouth. Not now, a mere hour after Sirius had stood over the bed, watching the man sleep before pulling the covers up around him. Not later, either, when those dark eyes would surely surface from his subconscious. 

Sirius heard the door click shut, and he found himself exhaling a breath that had been held in far too long. Restless swum under Sirius's calm smile. His skin twitched, and he rolled his shoulders back, trying to relieve the tension. He couldn't stand to sit around idly while Remus and the others risked their lives every day. Even Harry, at fifteen, had a bigger role than Sirius. 

Sirius broke out of his thoughts to search for a fresh piece of parchment and a quill. He wanted to write to his godson, to check up on the boy. Sirius had heard talk of the Weasley family coming to stay with him, and eventually Harry too.

He knew how Harry loathed the Dursleys, and he didn’t blame him. That family reminded him of his youth, of a family that tried to make him something he wasn’t. He had a set of memories in which Lily talked about her sister Petunia. Sirius truly believed it was one of Lily’s greatest regrets that she and her sister hadn’t stayed on good terms. He told himself he couldn't understand that. 

_Regulus._ The single word that surfaced caused him immense pain. He could never think about his brother. He could never look back on the memories he had of him. Sirius kept his brother locked out of his mind.

Sirius attempted to shake himself out of the past, focusing instead on distracting his mind with Harry. He tried to think of what to write: nothing that would expose the plans of the Order, as Dumbledore had forbade it. Sirius had tried to argue, _Headmas- Albus, no, Dumbledore,_ he had finally decided on. Sirius never knew what to call the man; they weren't exactly close, and Dumbledore had never cared for him or thought of him fondly as he did with Snape or Harry. The elder wizard had never taken a particular interest in him, so he didn’t feel like they were on first name terms. He was no longer in school, so “Headmaster” wasn’t quite fitting. _Harry deserves to know what’s going on as much as anyone else here does,_ Sirius had said before pausing and looking pointedly at Snape, _More than some here do, as a matter of fact._

When no words of encouragement would come to mind, Sirius snapped the quill in two, standing as the broken halves clattered across the parquetry. Sirius pushed the desk over in frustration, one of the ancient legs of the table falling and rolling off to the left. The noises around him faded as his jaw began to clench. He turned himself around, anguished. His mouth was dry,and he let out a scream, but who for? There was no one to hear his agony. 

Sirius did not know what to do with himself. He turned around again, looking at the broken table, the wood splintered in places. He ran at the furniture, kicking at it until it broke apart. In the back of his head he sensed pain, sensed a throbbing in his foot, and he tried to hold onto it. Sirius needed to feel, needed desperately to feel anything at all. The numbness…it was returning; Azkaban was entering his head, and he would do anything to push it away. He had no regard for the amount of destruction it caused. 

The pain faded out as the rest of his cries did, and he ran to the cabinet where he kept his drinks. He grabbed a glass, his hand shaking. When he began to pour himself a shot, anything to bring him away from his torturous reality, he screamed again and swiped the glass away. 

It shattered, breaking apart and causing a terrible mess: pieces of glass littered the floor, but Sirius didn’t care. He relished the pain as the glass broke through the soles of his feet. Sirius didn’t know where his body was taking him, but he no longer rushed. His steps were small, his movements slow and trancelike. He could hardly feel the jagged cuts in his feet, nor those that embedded themselves deep within the skin. It felt to Sirius that the world would fall over; everything was too much. Each of his thoughts exploded and dissipated as soon as they formed, the pressure in his head building and building until he couldn't stand it anymore and he let the voices slip into his head. 

_Sirius, you are worthless. Sirius, little Sirius, my Sirius. My Sirius, you’re alone. Sirius, you were the one that abused Snape. Sirius, you know he was just another child._ The voices kept talking. Sirius kept walking. Slowly. His body breathed for him, steadily, slowly. _Sirius, oh Sirius, Snape was just a child. Sirius, he was a child, a boy, just like you were. He was a boy, the same as you, Sirius, why didn’t you see that?_

_“Slytherin,” James had spat._

Sirius shook his head with no real effort. He deserved the voices. _Sirius, didn’t you know? Sirius didn’t you know Snape was a boy, frail and scared? Sirius didn’t you know, didn’t you know? Sirius, you know you knew. You know you knew._

Sirius wasn’t there. Sirius was with the singing voices. It wasn’t the voices that slid into his head, it was Sirius that slid out. _Just a word, Sirius, why was it so much for you? “Slytherin,” Sirius, the other boy’s label. Sirius, weak Sirius. “WEAK” the voices shouted over and over._

_Oh Sirius, sweet Sirius, Snape was the boy that you secretly feared you were. Sirius, he was the boy you secretly were deep down._

_Sirius, you’ve known it all along. Sirius, Sirius._

The body was still moving. The body was past where the glass lay on the floor, but it kept walking, the shards digging deeper into its heels, scraping and scratching between its toes. _Sirius, why did you repress yourself? Proud, proud slytherin. Pride, Sirius, pride, yours. Sirius, oh you cowered before your truth. Sickly Sirius you were. Sirius, Sirius. and if James- James, oh yes, James. You must feel what you did to him._

Sirius whimpered. The body sobbed. _Sirius, you know you caused your best friend’s death. Dear, my dear, dear Sirius, you know the truth. You’re a murder, Sirius._

_Sirius, you’re a murderer._

_Murderer._

The feet would bruise. The skin was destroyed. The body ached, it yelled, it screamed and begged and cried tears of blood for Sirius to stop. _Sirius, you make me laugh, you know, you’re no better than Voldemort. Sirius, Sirius. How could you ever take care of Harry, Harry James’s boy? Harry, James’s boy, Harry, Harry, James who you killed. His boy, his son, his child. Sirius oh, Sirius I’ll sing you name. Sirius oh Sirius how could you ever protect the boy, the son of your friend, your friend you murdered? Sirius, sick beast. Sirius how, when you yourself are the reason the boy has been orphaned?_

Blood on the floor. Red. Smeared. The body’s blood. _Sirius you know, Sirius, you can hardly look at your godson without guilt threatening to send a punch to your gut. You should let it. Guilt knows what you deserve, Sirius. Why don’t you give into what you know you need, Sirius._ It was a statement. _“Harry Potter. The boy who lived.” Sirius, you know that life shouldn't have ever been threatened._

_Sirius, you know who threatened it. Sirius. You, Sirius._

One of the body's hands opened the door. The body walked out. Humid air. Blood on the sidewalk. _Sirius you deserved Azkaban. You deserve me, Sirius._

 _Sirius, oh Sirius, you deserve any torture that will come your way._ _Sirius, nauseating Sirius, you know you deserve death. Death, death like James, death. Worse, Sirius, you know you deserve worse._

_Sirius, you’re the killer._

_Sirius, you have no soul._

  
  



	6. Your Favorite Cheshire Grin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated~  
> This chapter focuses a little more on Severus and Lily's past and the relationship between Albus and Severus. I will be posting a one-shot that I wrote a few months ago in a few days, featuring Severus/Lily. I don't ship them but I wanted to try them out. The story works with this chapter, but you can choose to read them as completely separate, or as part of a same universe. (It does not need to be read to keep up with BtH.)  
> Enjoy!

Albus was pacing across his study, footsteps loud enough that Minerva could hear then through the door. She was standing just outside, wondering if it would be okay to knock. She could tell something was wrong, Albus was rarely this anxious.

She decided that perhaps she could be of help to the man, so she brought her knuckles to the worn wooden door. The footsteps ceased briefly, and a surprisingly calm voice shouted out permission to enter. 

Minerva pushed the door open, slowly placing each foot into the circular room. Albus was facing away from her. She didn’t want to pry; she knew from past experiences that Albus was a very private man. She wondered if he really ever had anyone to talk to, anyone to share his thoughts with. 

Minerva thought she should go. Albus hardly acknowledged her presence, and she realised she was likely imposing on something private. Just as she was about to turn and leave, the man began to speak. 

“Severus. He never reported to me, that night I sent you down to him. The night after the meeting - he should have come to see me.” Minerva was silent. She feared the words that were to come. 

Albus paused, turning finally to face her. “I went to go check on him myself. I had thought he would not want to see me, that he would be resentful towards me for putting him in such a position. But when he didn’t come to see me as scheduled, I grew anxious.” Albus’s eyes met Minerva’s.

“Severus… He wasn’t there. He left the order meeting early, you might recall. I could see the fatigue that fell from his shoulders.” Albus’s eyes hadn’t left her own, and while Minerva heard the words spoken with little emotion, the man’s body language suggested that this was a cause for great concern. The next words he spoke were the last ones, and Minerva’s stomach sunk as they were spoken. 

“Minerva, I don’t know where Severus could be.”

Albus had told Minerva his worries about Severus. It wasn’t something he was in the habit of doing, confiding in others, but Severus had his uses and so Albus needed whatever was necessary to ensure his safety. 

Minerva however did not have the reaction Albus had hoped for. She was angry, silently so. “Give it a day,” Minerva said, “I’m sure he’ll come back. Broken? Surely. Hardly able to stand? Able to carry his weakened body? Perhaps. But as long as he is alive and working for you, the rest is irrelevant, isn’t it?” She walked out the door furiously, angry that Albus had such little thought for Severus’s wellbeing. 

Albus wasn’t quite sure what to do. He supposed Minerva was right, Severus would crawl back. He was like a cockroach in that regard, very difficult to kill. Snape was a survivor. 

Severus would return, and Albus would not be happy with the man. He didn’t feel as though he should have to chase after him, to search for where he had been. Severus had promised to do as he asked, and Albus planned to hold him to it. 

Albus sighed, he didn’t mean to be heartless. He pitied the man; he saw the sadness buried deep within him. Severus was broken, somewhere and Albus didn’t know how he could help the man fix that. Lily Potter had been his tether, and with her dead, Severus was more lost than ever before. 

Severus didn’t want to see anyone. It wasn’t that he was angry with Albus, or scared of what Sirius could do to him. Severus wasn’t cowering in fear of the Dark Lord, he simply didn’t wish to spend his evening at his place of work. He spent enough time within the walls of the castle, training himself not to shudder as each student glared at him with hate in their eyes. 

Severus knew the students disliked him. He hated that he couldn’t help them, couldn't explain to each of them individually what they were doing wrong. He hated that he had to act void of all sympathy towards the children he taught, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that the children of his fellow Death Eaters were not reporting his every move back to their parents. 

Hardly anyone in the wizarding world trusted Severus. Death Eaters doubted his loyalty as much as the members of the Order of the Phoenix did. His students thought him cruel, and their parents harbored resent for the lack of personality he put into his lessons. 

Severus though perhaps Albus cared for him, the man had been the closest thing he had ever had to a proper parental figure. He wanted to confide in the man, to tell him his struggles, but Severus would never do that. He could never do that. Severus wasn’t the type of person that could be allowed to open up; too much was at risk. 

Severus breathed a sigh of relief when the bookstore came into view. He hadn’t been to it in years, not since - well, not since Lily. Severus hadn’t been sure if the bookstore would still be standing; the owners were both nearing the end of their lives. He stood outside of it for a moment, looking up at the faded letters of the sign. 

Too many of Severus’s memories of Lily were sad, tainted by his failure to be a proper friend. The shadow of Lily’s death obscured much of the happiness she brought Severus. Memories of the bookstore were some of the few untarnished ones he had left. When the two had been young, before Lily was sorted into the opposing house, before there competition and strained their relationship, Lily brought him here. They must have been nine or ten the first time they entered the store together, Lily holding his hand tightly. Severus was in awe of the seemingly endless amount of books. The ceilings were low to the ground, but each of the multiple rooms had walls and walls of books. 

Most of the books were old and worn, donated by their previous owners to be resold to newer lovers. Severus remembered with a smile the owner, a plump old lady and her kind husband, giving him the books he took interest in. The two had gotten to know and remember Severus and Lily, as their visits would become regular. Severus could never afford to buy any of the treasures he ran his fingers across, breathing their ancient comforting scent. The two had let Severus take any books he wanted with him, so long as he returned them. He had a care for the books that stretched beyond a love for the stories they held. The books were an escape for him; the store a slice of heaven apart from the hell he lived in. 

Severus remembered the first time he had dragged Lily back there. It was one of the first times his father had hit him. Severus had shown up at Lily’s house, throwing pebbles at her window. Bruises marking his wrist, he had cried to her and asked her to come with him. The sky had been cloudy, and Lily had smiled at him from her window, running out the back door moments later. She didn’t ask why he had been crying, didn’t ask him what was wrong. Severus hadn’t wanted to talk about it; he appreciated her not prying for information.

The air inside the shop was damp, and Severus breathed in the familiar smell. Memories rushed into his head, memories of times he had spent in the small store with Lily. His breath caught as he moved forward, moved into the back rooms. The surge of past feelings overwhelmed Severus and he sat himself down in a chair.

It was the same one he had sat in the very first time Lily had brought him there, tugging on his overly large shirt. Severus picked a book from the shelf, wondering what it contained. The shelves were never organised: books were placed on them haphazardly, snuck into whatever crevices they fit. 

“You look so familiar to me,” a voice rang out. “Reminds me of a boy I used to know.”

Severus looked up. “Martha? You look the same as you did fifteen years ago!”

The old lady smiled, but she gave no sign of remembering who Severus was. “Remind me of your name, dear?”

“Severus. I used to visit your shop with my friend Lily all the time.”

The woman brought a hand to her mouth. “My, my - how you’ve grown.” She paused. “Albert and I used to talk about you and her, you know. After you stopped showing up, we wondered where you’d gone.”

“How is Albert?”

“He passed away a few years back,” Martha said sadly. “And Lily? How is she?”

Severus looked down, loneliness suddenly weighing him down. “She’s gone too.”

“So young,” the woman murmured, before looking back up at Severus. “She came in here once, a few years after you stopped visiting together. She cried a lot, but wouldn’t say what was wrong.”

Severus didn’t know how to respond. He looked into his lap at the novel in his lap. Anna Karenina. One of Lily’s favorites. 

“Well then,” the woman trailed off, “I suppose I’ll leave you to your book. Let me know if I can help you find anything, dear.”

“Thank you,” Severus replied. As the woman was returning to her chair in the front of the shop, Severus called out, “It was really nice getting to see you again. You brought us - Lily and I - a lot of happy memories.”

Severus opened the book, but his mind wasn’t focused on the words it contained. He smiled as it drifted towards the joys of the past.  _ Lily squeezing his hand as they walked into the bookstore for the very first time. Lily’s fiery hair tumbling into his lap as she layed on the floor next to him, reading a book of her own. Lily’s smile he’d catch from the corner of his eye, pulling him out of the addictive words.  _ Severus smiled, a real one. The first in a long time. 

_ Lily and Severus running across the street, fingers intertwined. The two entering the little shop, hands breaking apart to wave to the elderly couple. Lily’s fingers whispering across the shelves of books, looking for the perfect one to begin. Lily sitting on the wood floor next to Severus, their arms against each other.  _ Severus had always been an avid reader; he could easily get lost in a book for hours on end.

Severus’s lips turned themselves upwards at the memory of Lily's head falling onto his shoulder as she drifted into sleep. He had paused his reading, shocked and unsure of what to do. After a moment though, he realised he didn’t mind the closeness. Severus never minded anything Lily did, he would always love her.


	7. No Uncertain Terms

His feet still hurt. Everyday, Sirius would find more shards of glass in them, hidden in the deep trenches of his skin, though they had nearly healed. Sirius knew that he could have gotten Remus - or even Dumbledoor - to heal them quicker, to repair them overnight, but he couldn’t think of an explanation for how he had managed to get the broken bits so ingrained into the soles of his feet. 

Two weeks had passed, and Sirius was no closer to finding out who had done such a thing to him. The complexity of the injury perplexed Sirius… the glass in his feet, the dark bruises on his heels, the fact that Sirius could not remember for the life of him who he had been fighting with. He didn’t remember a fight at all. 

Sirius’s memories were hazy. He remembered waking in an alleyway, the stench of decay and rotten carcases suffocating. He remembered standing, remembered Apparating himself home, only to find his mother’s writing desk overturned and half the legs splintered off.

He could remember walking, walking far. The walking, it was a memory that begged to be unlocked. Sirius didn’t remember feeling any pain as he walked, but he imagined that it was during that time that the glass had dug itself so far into the soles of his feet. He couldn’t remember why he had acted in such a pedestrian manner; wizards had magic for a reason, after all. He couldn’t remember where he thought he was going, where he had been traversing to. 

Or perhaps, who he had been running from. 

His last memories from before he awoke included Snape. Of course, Sirius was disgusted with himself; he had fucked the man. _Been fucked by,_ he corrected himself with a scowl. He shivered; Sirius had let the man sleep next to him. He had awoken and not moved away. 

Snape surely had done something to him later that day; he was just the type of bastard to sleep with him and then try to make him forget it. Sirius mulled it over, contemplating how that would explain the glass, would explain the hours of languid walking. Would explain how Sirius didn’t have a period of time in which he lacked memories altogether, but rather a sequence of them in which he could not discern any meaning or rational through his dream-like haze. A sequence of memories where Sirius was watching the world as if he was not a part of it. He must have been under some sort of spell; there was no other explanation.

Sirius couldn’t figure out what Snape had done to him, not yet, but he was determined to do so. Sirius needed to find the snake, to find him and to beat him until blood flowed from his cheeks as blood had from his feet. Snape had a role in this misery of his, he was sure of it. And if not… Well, it would be fun to beat the man up regardless. 

\--------

Severus let out an irritated sigh as fists pounded against the wood of his door. It seemed that he was going to have to get used to Black’s theatrics, as the man’s visits were increasing in frequency. He put down his quill, regret transforming into annoyance as he unlocked the door and a heated Sirius stormed inside, landing a punch to his nose almost instantly. 

Severus didn’t have time to pull out his wand before Black was kissing him, kissing him and twisting his arm back, twisting it and pulling it in odd angles until it was pinned up against his back, his elbow perpendicular to the floor. Black’s hand was holding his own, but not in any fond manner: he was keeping Severus’s wand hand trapped behind him. It felt like the bone might snap. 

“What - stop - wait -,” Severus stammered, his usual eloquence and steely control abandoned as he tried to get out, Black continuing to bind his arm against his back. 

Black’s mouth wouldn’t leave his own as the man pulled brutally on his hair with his free hand, as he dug the heel of his shoe into Severus’s shin as they both stumbled backwards. Their movements were beyond clumsy; they were uncontrolled, confused. The supposed meaning of one conflicted the meaning of the next. A tongue slipped between his lips almost sweetly, before teeth bit onto the tender skin of those lips hard enough to bruise, hard enough for Severus to taste his own blood. 

Severus couldn’t fight back; Black had surprised him, incapacitating his dominant hand and positioning his other too far away to do much damage. Severus didn’t have time to analyze or predict Black’s movements. Everything was so sudden, so quick, so furious. 

Black’s mouth broke from his own, and the triumphant smirk he flashed before pinching the skin of Severus’s shoulder between his teeth piqued Severus. Though Black was busy mutilating his skin, he kept Snape’s sweaty hand in a numbing grip. Without control over his most useful limbs, Severus resorted to thrusting his chest and body forward. Sirius and he both stumbled back, but Sirius didn't let go of his hand. 

Severus rammed his forehead into the man’s mouth, and was surprised at the man’s strength to not have pulled his hand away; Black kept Severus’s hand as his own. He looked up at Severus, his chin tilting upward and his blood tracing the length of his neck. He chuckled, a frenzy passing over him. He pulled his body closer to Severus’s, looking down at the man he had under his control.

Sirius sneered; he liked being the one in power. He liked the feeling of Snape’s smaller body squirming and struggling against his own. He released Snape’s arm. 

Severus felt his arm come free from Black’s hold, but the pain only increased as he swung it around to land a punch on the other man’s cheek. Black caught his hand by the wrist, and Severus briefly feared he would snap it in two. 

Instead, Severus’s hand was being brought down, Black resting it between their bodies as he forced their lips together once more. Severus felt his hand being pressed onto Black's erection beneath his finger tips. He felt the mouth kissing him, bruising his own, forceful and arrogant. Severus let his teeth catch on a pair of lips that weren't his own as he leaned his head to the side to speak. 

“Found a new way to turn yourself on, Black?” Severus would have bothered to stop himself from laughing if he cared about what Black could do to his body. 

Black flashed his teeth and brought his hands free to shove Severus back. The man tripped as his body was thrust backwards, hitting his head on the corner of a low tabletop. Blood ran from his hairline, and Severus went to wipe it away. Not before his own hand could do so were Black’s there, wiping the blood from his forehead into his hair his fingers tangled into. 

A metallic smell was in the air, and to Severus the room swayed like a chandelier preparing to drop a great hight. His head pulled to the left as Black yanked his hair in that direction, and somehow Severus managed to focus his glare. It was impressive, the amount of damage they had done to one another without any wand use: neither was particularly skilled at muggle combat. 

Snape lunged himself at the other’s ankles, who toppled to his knees. Sirius scrambled to place himself on top of Severus, to not lose the advantage of his height and stronger build. His cock twitched as he spread his legs to pin his opponent to the floor, one of his hands holding the man’s hands above his head as the other slinked under Snape’s robes. Sirius’s fingers traced the tense muscles on the other man’s chest, relishing the uncomfortable state he saw expressed on Snape’s face. 

“Severus Snape.” He said the name once, testing it and tasting it on his tongue. The name licked at the air, at space that was bare barring Severus's grunts and struggles to escape. 

“Severus Snape.” The words came more naturally the second time around. Sirius leaned his body onto the other man’s, his weight pressing down and his face so close that the tip of his nose brushed the cartilage of Severus's ear as he kissed at the skin and whispered, “I remember.”

Severus was puzzled. Black seemed to think that whatever he remembered was of great importance to him, but he didn’t even know what the man was referring to. Severus elected to stay silent in the hopes that Black would reveal whatever this memory was. 

“You fucked me,” Black began. He was too predictable, never once failing to fill silence with his own words. Severus smirked, knowing sex with the man would indeed be difficult to forget. 

“So you remember coming by my hands,” Severus said slowly, “As you cried my name.” 

Sirius’s confidence faltered slightly. The memory Snape referred to was clear in his head, not clouded as the ones after seemed to be.

“You must also remember, then, the way your hands gripped at the sheets of your own bed.” Severus paused, only long enough for his words to take effect in Black’s mind. “The way you lost control of everything, the way you begged and pleaded for me to fuck you?” 

Sirius’s nose crinkled as he looked at the man he had trapped beneath him. His confidence returning, Sirius went to speak but before he could get an answer out, Snape’s voice drawled on. “What a simply _incredible_ feat. Sirius Black manages to not black out during sex.” Snape’s lip curled as he spoke the words. “Tell me Black, do you forget the events of your own life... often? I must congratulate you then on such an accomplishment.”

Sirius’s fists were against the pale flesh faster than he could plan his course of action. Blood trickled from Severus’s forehead as it gushed from the man’s mouth, but still he did not cry out. His tolerance of pain seemed to exceed that of a normal man. Sirius’s teeth - nor his hands or his cock for that matter - would not have controlled themselves had there not been another knock at the door.

Severus watched as Black’s face and fists froze in unison. He seized the opportunity to push the man off of him. "Fucking hide yourself _,"_ Severus hissed, "You want someone to know we were together?"

Severus performed a concealment charm on his face and was about to complete a cleaning one for the blood, but a voice pushed itself through the door. 

“Severus I understand that you may be angry with me. That you may blame me for whatever… hardships you have been undergoing recently.” Albus paused. “You made me a promise, though, and I expect you to fulfill it.”

Severus opened the door as Black made his way into the bathroom. Neither wanted the headmaster to know Sirius had been there. 

“Not _sleeping_ , that’s a hardship? Being tortured, having your body used to - to please the others, not being allowed to use your own body as you wish… I would hardly call that a hardship.”

Severus could tell that Albus was going to speak, going to defend himself perhaps. Going to reiterate how important Severus’s position was in the war, going to apologise even, but in that moment, with blood still flowing across his face and down his bruised neck, Severus didn’t want to hear it. 

“Albus. I have done everything you have asked. I have served you, let myself be broken for you, for over fourteen years. I have not stopped, not when I can’t stand and not when I can only feel the pain of the curses that pulse beneath my skin. I am doing everything I can, so that no one in this world feels the agony that I do. I am continuing to uphold my side of the bargain, when you could not have failed more _miserably_.” Severus wanted to spit in the headmaster’s face. His rage was not only for the man - it was for Black, for the Dark Lord, for the injustices of the universe - but Albus was greatly to blame for his suffering. 

Albus was quiet. Severus had a way with words, a way to bend even the simplest of them into daggers that pierced through layers of calm and control. 

“Albus Dumbledore. The sole man the Dark Lord fears... I owe you _nothing._ You failed me, when I have done everything for you. Given everything to you, given it all away. My mind, my body. I ask that you leave me. Now.” Severus knew his words had the power to slice, to cut into the heart of another, and in that moment he wanted just that. Albus did not know pain as he did. The man may have been hurt, but pain would never be his closest friend as it was to Severus. 

The man nodded his head once before turning and leaving; he could tell that now was not a good time to discuss anything with Severus. 

Sirius had tried to listen, had tried to hear as many of the phrases his enemy sharply spoke as possible, but Snape’s voice had been too low, too quiet: none of the words were distinguishable. 

When Snape opened the door and pulled Sirius out of his bathroom, he looked considerably more rattled than he had before. Sirius almost wanted to ask the man if he was okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The charms on his feet were wearing off and their ache was returning; Sirius needed to get to the point and have Severus explain to him what had happened. 

“What did you do to me.” It wasn’t a question anymore; Sirius was positive Snape was the one who had screwed with his memories. Snape was quiet. Sirius’s fists chose not to be. 

“After you fucked me. After you fell asleep on me, after you pretended to leave my house. What did you do to my memories? Why was I walking, how are my feet-” Sirius didn’t know how to describe it, and the look of utter perplexity on Snape’s face was genuine. 

Impossibly genuine for anyone who was complicit. 

Sirius realised he must have sounded crazy, admitting to the other man that his memories seemed to have been tempered with. Snape licked the blood off of his lips, and Sirius had to stop himself from inhaling at the action. 

“Fine. You don’t know. Forget I said anything.” Sirius needed to leave. His head felt hot. Confusion flashed violently through his mind, rattling his very core. What had happened to him if Snape was not involved? He remembered the voices, remembered them entering his head, but had thought that it had been Snape triggering them. Sirius had never experienced a gap like this before, a time where he wasn’t sure where he had been. It was terrible frightening to him. 

Snape tilted his head a little, and Sirius saw the lamplight hit his eyes. Beautiful eyes.

“You’re going to find me tonight. You’re going to find me in my room, you’re going to get yourself into there without anyone seeing you enter.” Snape was still his bitch, and a good distraction from his worries. Sex would chase his fears to the back of his mind, where Sirius was more than happy to leave them.

The door slammed shut behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the love so far! It really means a lot to me.  
> This chapter and the last, as well as my next chapters have not been read over by a beta, so I apologize for any errors.  
> Enjoy!


	8. Lawless Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- TW: Strangulation and restricted breathing in this chapter - 
> 
> Happy new year to everyone!   
> I would like to thank Phantomato for beta-reading this chapter for me. Please enjoy~

_ Fucking Black. Fucking - Goddamnit, Black _ , Severus thought. Why did the man have to leave out important details so often? Severus closed the door behind him as quickly as possible. He had considered simply leaving, but Black’s sly smile had surfaced in his mind, the memory of Black’s firm body holding his own still tingled across his skin. In all honesty, Severus knew he wanted to fuck the man again.

Black had known there would be others in the house. He had known, and deliberately left out that information when telling him to return to him. This was the first part of his torture, leaving him to figure out how to reach the bedroom without being spotted by any of the other members of the household. He scowled as he cast an invisibility charm around himself, passing redheads unnoticed. When he reached the top of the stairs, he didn’t bother to knock on Black’s door. 

Severus opened the door, and Black appeared to have been waiting. The man turned around, standing only in a worn Muggle shirt. He scoffed as he cast a silencing charm around the room, and Severus frowned, walking towards the other man. Black placed his hands on Severus’s shoulders, looking down at him. His hand undid Severus's robes, leaving him standing uncomfortably in only his boxers and shoes. 

Severus shivered, his legs were bare and exposed to the chilled air of Black’s bedroom.

Sirius was trying not to kiss the man. Those thin lips begged to be parted, looked as if they needed someone to bruise them harder. His hunger for the other man was a weakness, a weakness that he could not permit himself to have. Not tonight, when he thirsted for dominance, for control. Sirius had hoped Snape would show. He had doubted the man, but only for a moment. Snape remained as needy when it came to sex as Sirius was. 

It wasn’t that Sirius was desperate for sex; he could fuck nearly anyone of his choosing. Snape had something else though, something that satiated a hunger that thrummed deep inside of him. Snape was a challenge for Sirius, an equal in bed. His expertise was surprising, yet undeniable. Those fingers could move across his skin like no others, as if they knew already what would make Sirius sob with pleasure. 

Sirius resisted his desires as he pulled out his wand, a thick black ribbon curling itself around Severus’s neck. Sirius licked his lips, his heard thudding as it pulsed adrenaline through him.

“Drop it, Snivelly.” Sirius said and Snape spat at him. Sirius willed the ribbon to tighten. “Your wand.”

The wand clattered to the floor, Snape’s eyes burning with fury and humiliation. Sirius took a step back, admiring his work. He flicked his wand once more, and Severus’s shoes flew off. He brought himself closer to the man, finally allowing himself to kiss him. Those lips were still soft, but no longer smooth as they had been earlier in the day. Small cuts were scattered across them, like stars in the night sky, and part of the top lip was swollen from their fight earlier in the day. Sirius sucked on it, feeling himself harden at the feeble sounds that Severus made in response to the pain. 

When Sirius pulled away, they were both breathless. Sirius bit his bottom lip to control himself as he turned and walked towards the bed. The ribbon pulled Severus to follow, and Sirius pushed Severus onto the bed. He scowled, fighting against the tightening sensations. Sirius was getting frustrated; he couldn’t get the ribbon to secure all the way as Severus resisted them better than he had expected, even without a wand. 

He stood while Severus lied on the bed, and Sirius enjoyed looking down at the man. Sirius removed his shirt as he bent over the other man, tracing Snape’s member through the fabric of his boxers briefly before giving it a harsh squeeze. 

Severus quivered. The touch was too much, too quickly, and he hadn’t expected it so soon. Black moved his other hand onto the sensitive area of Severus’s thigh, letting his fingers fondle the delicate skin. Severus let out a moan, and the ribbons tightened themself. New strips of rough black fabric held Severus’s hands to the headboard of the bed. 

Snape’s breathing was intensifying quickly, too quickly almost. Sirius didn’t want to stop though. Bringing the man into a desperate and pleading state was what he needed.

Severus knew what was going to happen, knew already that Black planned to fuck him until he screamed. He couldn’t have that, couldn’t lose himself that way. Black had too much power over him, there was nothing Severus would be able to do to make him stop.

“Black -” Snape didn’t sound like his usual calm self. Sirius glanced up, the man was sweating. Sirius smiled in triumph.

“No - Black. Stop, STOP _.”  _ Sirius didn’t stop. Of course Snape would try to regain dominance, and would expect Sirius to follow his lead. Sirius finally had Snape looking at him with - was it fear?

“Don’t  _ ah, Black -  _ Don’t fuck me.” Sirius stopped his hands, pulling himself close to the other man’s face. Snape looked rattled, scared. So different from his usual composed self, but Sirius tried to reassure himself that everything was okay, that this was how Severus was during sex. 

_ He wasn’t like this last time.  _ Sirius’s memories surfaced at inconvenient times. 

“Why the fuck not, Snape?” Sirius’s words washed over him, but Severus didn’t respond. He couldn’t, the words would not leave his mouth. He didn’t know how to explain to the man leaning over him the surge of panic and fear that occupied every muscle in his body. He doubted Black would listen. Black would fuck him and Severus would be reduced to a trembling mess, unable to control his own body. 

“Tell me Snape.” Sirius was getting frustrated; he sent a slap across quivering pale cheeks. He didn’t want to make the other man truly uncomfortable, and for an unknown reason, he believed Snape’s words were genuine, but he was going to need more to go on. Sirius wanted to see Snape undergoing as much pleasure as he himself had a fortnight prior. 

“You can have my body, Black. God knows you’re already doing as you please. I don’t care if you want to jack yourself off on me, or beat my body until I bleed more than I come.” The phrases came out less defiantly than Severus had expected them to, words thrown between gasps for breath. Nevertheless, he forced more words from his lips. 

“Call me your whore. You can, well,  _ try _ to make me scream, to make me cry. Fuck yourself on my cock for all I care. I just don’t want your fucking dick inside of me, got it?” Severus had managed to pull himself together for the end, his words strong compared to how he felt. His heart pounded through his ears.

Sirius tightened the ribbons. Snape’s back arched as the bonds around his hands pulled them higher, leaving his chest completely bare and at Sirius’s mercy. Sirius dragged his tongue down from the other man’s neck to his nipples messily; he didn’t care how much saliva was left on the path.

Snape’s heart pounded in his chest as Black bit down on his nipple. He didn’t know if Black would respect his wishes, and there was little more he could do. His neck twinged from the tight bondage, and his arousal regrettably only increased with the pain Black inflicted onto him. 

Sirius sighed in satisfaction as a moan escaped the other man. He could tell Snape was trying to control himself, and Sirius was surprised at how well he was doing so far. 

“You’re not very good at submitting.” Sirius tongue danced across the tip of Snape’s shaft as he spoke. 

“How narcissistic -  _ fuck, Black -  _ of you to suggest that you are worthy of my submition.” Snape was in remarkable control, Sirius had to give him that. At this point, Sirius would not have been able to speak, much less think of such coherent retorts. 

Sirius stopped his mouth’s motions. He undid the bands that pinned the other’s hands to the edge of the bed, tying them instead behind Snape’s own back. Sirius leaned back, letting his body relax as he finally removed his briefs and his cock came free. 

“Shut yourself up on me,” Sirius began. He smirked, tightening the ropes so that Severus’s breath was cut off. “Your mouth better have no room left for words.”

Severus gave no indication that he planned to comply, only loosening his lips to let a sly smile slide through. 

“ _ Now,  _ you fuckin snake, if you ever want to breathe again.” Snape shook his head, choking on the lack of air. Sirius loosened them slightly, barely enough for a small stream of oxygen to pass. Snape gasped, inhaling as much air as he could.

Snape’s tongue swiped the precum from Sirius’s tip before enveloping his cock. Sirius whined, his breaths quickening as Severus moved his mouth up and down, his cock moving deeper and deeper down the other man’s throat. Snape’s fingers traced his entrance, his hands worked the base of his shaft. Sirius could hardly think, he could tell the bands were loosening from Snape’s neck as he neared climax. 

The instant that Sirius’s hand let go of the wand, the motions stopped. The warmth receded, and Severus’s low voice spoke out. 

“Look at me, Black. Do not ever -  _ Never _ touch me that way again.” The ribbons that had been wrapped around Snape’s neck moments before were around Black’s seconds later. Snape’s nails dug into Sirius’s thighs as he lifted the wand, his head tilting to the side. 

Sirius felt the ropes tighten around his neck, slowly. Snape was dragging it out, letting Sirius’s fear mount as the ropes squeezed him harder. Sirius was panicking, his hands clawing at the ribbons he himself had created. He struggled to breathe, realising this wasn’t a wise thing to have done to the other man.

“Your ribbons. Well, they’ve turned out to be quite fun.” Severus wasn’t smiling; there was no amusement in his voice. Fear spiked through Sirius and settled in his bones; the fury that pulsed through the other man’s body terrified Sirius as much as the strips of fabric that continued to tighten. 

Snape was threatening. Sirius knew that Snape knew how to bend magic in ways that Sirius would never understand. The other man had more self-control than Sirius ever would. His controle over himself was masterful, and he found ways to dominate over anyone else. Snape could kill Sirius, and they both knew it.

Sirius was shaking, gasping for breath. Severus looked at him, no pity in his eyes. Sirius quivered under the intensity of the other man’s gaze. He wanted to cry out, wanted to scream for him to stop, wanted to do anything to be able to breathe again. 

“I would like to know, Black -  _ Black _ ,  _ focus.  _ Focus your idiot brain _. _ Would you have fucked me?” Sirius heard the words, but they did not register in his head. He tried to shake himself out of his panic, tried desperately to comprehend what Snape wanted from him. 

“Black…” Snape drew a slender finger along Black’s length, causing him to choke as he tried to inhale. “You need to answer me.”

Dangerous. The only way to describe the voice that punctuated Sirius’s silent pleas. 

Sirius felt a tear slip from his eye. His fingertips were raw from trying to pry the rigid ropes loose, though he knew it was no use. Sirius had long since lost control of his body, his mouth closing once more after having opened to let out anguished screams he could not push out. He felt like he hadn’t had a breath of air in years; time had begun to move in a whirlwind. 

Severus slapped him across the face, jolting Sirius back into reality. Snape spoke to him still. “ _ Black _ . Answer me if you value your goddamn miserable existence. Were you going to fuck me?” 

Sirius shook his head desperately, praying to a god he didn’t believe in that Snape would understand. He couldn’t tell where his head was moving, he saw only dark spots. His vision faded in and out, hardly able to see Snape who looked into his eyes, trying to discern truth from desperation. 

Just as Sirius thought his lungs would collapse upon themselves, the ribbons disappeared. Sirius choked, gagging on the air he was trying so hard to inhale. He fell forward, his chest feeling as if the weight of the sky had been lifted. He gasped for air, the coolness filling his lungs. Snape’s hand was on his chest, trying to steady him. Sirius wanted to push the man away but he had no strength to. All his energy was being directed into his breathing. 

Severus felt a certain satisfaction run through him as Black lay trembling, bent over himself on the bed before him. Black had no right to do as he had done. Severus could, however, appreciate Black’s attempt at dominance, despite its failure in the end. 

Black’s hair brushed against Severus’s cock, sparking in him a need for action. Severus sighed, wondering if the other man would want to be fucked after his most recent ordeal. 

“Calm yourself. Calm, Black. Look at me you piece of shit,  _ breathe.”  _ It was as if Black had never had his airway cut off for an extended period of time, a luxury life hadn’t afforded Severus. “Inhale, Black. Good, now exhale.”

Severus didn’t regret what he had done to the other man, but he did want to help him through the aftershock. “In, breathe in again, yes. Bloody dimwit, it’s not that hard. Exhale again, feel the air pushing through you. You’re okay, Sirius.”

Sirius looked up, brow furrowed and eyes wide with shock.  _ Sirius. Sirius, not Black.  _ Snape had spoken his first name, seamingly by accident. Sirius felt too much. Emotions surged as he heard his name spoken, and he leaned over to kiss the other man. He didn’t know why those lips, the lips of his tormentor, comforted him. Sirius couldn’t handle all of the uncertainties. Tears were falling silently from his eyes as Snape kissed him back, surprised. The other man broke away, confusion haunting his features. Sirius shook, wanting the other man despite the torture he had just undergone. 

_ Sirius _ . It was endearing. Something about hearing it from Snape… Something changed inside him. Sirius no longer wanted to punish himself for the intensity of his feelings. 

Sirius pressed his mouth to the other man’s again, softer than any of the previous times. Severus kissed back, leaning himself over the other man. They didn’t speak; needs and desires had already been communicated. Severus’s fingers entered the other man in preparation, and Black kissed him again, his tongue pushing past tightly-pressed lips. 

“Yes?” Severus inquired, not wanting to push the man towards anything else he didn’t choose to feel. Black nodded slowly as Severus pushed himself inside. 

Sirius opened his mouth, wanting to speak the other man’s name, unable to bring himself to do so.  _ Severus.  _ It was too intimate, too close. Snape was harsh, he was cruel. He was powerful and dangerous, terrifying and beautiful in the most secretive of ways. His body could move in a manner that caused Sirius’s soul to leave his body. Sirius didn’t know who Severus was.

Sirius moaned. “Harder, Snape. Harder, fucking- I deserve at least - at least that after what you put me through tonight.” Severus increased the speed of his thrusts, their typical harsh manner returning to them. Intimacy and comfort were forein and strange. Uncomfortable even. Sternness, cruelty, selfish motions. Those were familiar. That was what they each needed; each driving himself further into the other, searching for gratification. Snape forcing himself deeper into Sirius, and Sirius keening as Snape made his body shudder and shake.

Sirius came at last, hands gripping Snape’s back, nails digging into his bony shoulders as he tried to tether himself to this world. Severus felt himself let go, his body jerking as he found his release. 

Sirius felt Snape’s head buried in his hair as his breaths grabbed at the air around them, his own hands clutching the other man and holding him to his body. 

Severus pulled himself off of Sirius. He summoned his clothes, his wand. Severus closed the door behind him before creeping down the stairs and out the door, quietly so that Black’s godson and his friends would never know he had been there at all. 

Black knew how to fuck. He didn’t know how to breathe, how to form sentences, or how to act like a decent human being, but he could make Severus come madly. 

That had to count for something in his inexplicable attraction to the man.


	9. Undisclosed Desires

Severus increased the time he spent in Black’s company as the summer passed them by and the season changed to autumn. He began to attune himself to the other man’s emotions as well as his thoughts, and knew Black thought of him more than he would ever admit. Of course, letting Black know that he knew this was out of the question; it would take all the fun out of tormenting the man. Their supposed mutual hatred brought them together, the sex a means to express things words could not. 

They came to an unspoken understanding. Severus knew that Black expected him at night, and so he would clear a few nights a week to visit the other man. He no longer expected owls from Black beseeching him to show up. He knew that Black didn’t want him, only his body and the way he could make him feel. 

They fucked each other like it was the last time they'd ever get to, continuing to think they'd get their heads back on straight and leave the other as a distant memory and nothing more.

The element of danger was rarely left out; often one of them would try and force the other into pleading for sexual fulfillment. Severus would seldom leave Black’s room without new marks on his skin or blemishes to add to his collection. It was a game though, a competition to see who could express more hate and loathing while pleasuring the other. Neither wanted to do any real harm, but the infliction of pain onto the other was so familiar it was often mistaken for the comforts of the past. 

Sirius had come to understand that Snape would not be letting him top. Something about that state of vulnerability was a line the man was not willing to cross. Sirius didn’t dare try to, not after the other man had nearly killed him weeks prior. The memory of suffocation would surface, though less and less out of fear. Sirius had come to realise that he trusted Snape, trusted the other man with his body and perhaps even his life. Sirius would always start with putting up a good fight, but most often he would let Snape best him. 

When the sun would rise, regret would burden Sirius. Throughout the days, he would tell himself it was all a mistake. He could convince himself that he had no attraction to Snape, that he never wanted to see the man again. But as soon as that man would push open his door, darkness and long robes cloaking his sharp features, Sirius simply could not look away. Desire would consume him. Snape had an inexplicable power over him and as much as Sirius tried to tell himself he wanted him to go away forever, he only longed for more.

Sirius hated himself for how much he lusted after it. He hated that he spent his days with visions of Snape flashing through his mind. That skin, those eyes… Snape’s goddamn cock filling him up. Sirius would see the swish of a black cape and startle when he realised it was just another nameless stranger, unwanted disappointment cascading over him. Even when Remus had come to visit him, he found his thoughts wandering. Sirius longed for the days to pass him by and the nights to come sooner, nights when Snape would show. 

Sirius yearned for Snape falling onto his chest after they finished, for those moments of vulnerability when their bodies would close any distance between them. Sirius loved the whimpers that would escape Snape, those sounds of pleasure he tried to repress. Sirius wanted to thread his hands between that long dark hair, wanted to hold the frail man longer than a minute at a time, but he knew that was not a part of their unspoken agreement. There could be nothing other than sex between them. 

The nights that Sirius’s door would open slowly, quietly, were the agreeable ones. Those were the nights that Sirius felt _real_ , felt like life was worth living. Snape’s presence would alleviate his guilt, momentarily at the very least. Perhaps it was because Sirius felt like an equal next to him. Unlike Remus, Snape was burdened with similar feelings of regret. Snape was only there to fuck him, to hurt and bruise his skin night after night, but Sirius found comfort in their harsh ways; it was all he had known for so long. It made him feel when little else did. 

Sirius would sit on his bed, praying that his bedroom door would open and Snape would saunter in. The nights he didn’t, Sirius would keep waiting. He would wait there, hugging his knees, trying not to lose his hope, trying to keep the voices away.

Eventually though, when Sirius could no longer try to convince himself that Snape would show up, his hope would slip away as his guilt entered his mind. Once it found its way in there was no escape, not until morning. Sometimes not until the following evenings. 

Sirius thought that perhaps he was learning to deal with the voices and the other after-effects of Azkaban. He had started to remember what the singing voices would say to him. He would remember pieces of the utterings that would leave him in such devastation, bouts of the melodies that would inspire the all-consuming feelings of emptiness. It wasn’t much, but Sirius hoped these minor recollections would eventually help him banish the voices all together. 

* * *

Severus appeared to be doing better. Minerva didn’t know what had changed, but she was glad of it. The bags under the man's eyes had lessened, and his usual irritable demeanor was becoming slightly more pleasant. Slightly. 

Minerva wanted to talk to him later, ask him about the difficulties he faced. She knew Severus downplayed the traumatic experiences he was put through, and wanted him to feel as though he could confide in her. 

She glanced at Severus and his dark eyes pierced her own as he shook his head slowly, as if he knew what she was going to ask him. Minerva realised with a start that Severus likely did; she knew he was a skilled Legilimens.

A tight, pinched voice interrupted her thoughts, and Minerva realised why Severus had tried to warn her not to speak of anything. 

_Hem hem._ “I trust that anything you were going to say has not been interrupted by my arrival?” Minerva turned stiffly to face the woman who had just spoken. She was smiling, dressed in all pink, with a terrible handbag at her side. She looked about as genuinely happy as if someone was twisting her insides into one large knot while forcing her to grin from ear to ear. Minerva felt a surge of dislike almost instantly so she turned back to face Severus. She sensed the smile that pulled at his lips, a veritable one at that. Their dislike and annoyance for the woman was clearly mutual. 

The feast passed, silence bearing down on the staff table. The occasional awkward comment was made, inquiries about each of the staff’s respective summers. Only Dumbledore and Dolores seemed at ease. When she stood to address the Great Hall, Minerva leaned over and whispered to Severus. _“_ May I speak with you later this evening? Privately?”

Severus gave no indication that he had even heard her, but Mineva knew better than to expect a reaction or response from the man. She only hoped he would allow her in that night. Severus excused himself as the feast ended, and Minerva followed. She had to pick up her pace; Severus kept a brisk stride. When they finally arrived into the dungeons, Severus ushered her in, looking around to make sure no one would be aware of their conference. Things were changing in Hogwarts and they both knew there were spies for the ministry and the dark side amongst them. 

“Why are you here, Minerva?" He sounded exasperated almost, though she couldn’t fathom why. She was only there to help him, to lend him a shoulder to cry on; someone to talk to. Minerva was about to tell him this, but his voice cut through the silence once more. “Don’t answer that. You’re here to act as though you care about me. You’ll tell me that you’re here for me, that if I ever need someone to talk to you’ll be available. You think you’re the only one that truly knows what I go through, and it makes you special.” 

Minerva was dumbfounded. What Severus had said was correct, but it came across as fake. Her intentions were true; she really wanted to help the man. She stuttered, not sure of how to respond. Severus began again, his voice hinting at frustration and pitying annoyance.

“You found me at a bad time. That time, the reason you’re here right now. It’s… I’m not always like that. I can usually stand, can nearly always support my own weight. Other times, it’s worse, much worse. You have no idea, and I don’t want you to know. Minerva, you don’t want to know.” Severus paused, his brow wrinkling in thought. Minerva wanted to reach out to him, to wrap the suffering man in her arms, but it was not in the nature of their relationship nor the nature of her character. 

“I do want to know. I do, Severus. I might not have any idea what you go through but that can’t stop me from caring about your wellbeing.” She pursed her lips. She had tried to come across as gentle, but the words rang out defiantly instead. 

“You’re just as bad as Dumbledore, don’t you know?” Severus looked at her, his gaze almost frightening though Minerva was certain he would do no harm. His voice sounded calm, but the words hurt and shocked Minerva; they were unexpected.

“I was a student here, you know. Before the order, before I was risking everything for- well, the good of _everyone._ You gave no second thought to me.” Severus paused. He looked at Minerva, seemingly trying to gauge her reaction to these words. “You say you want to protect me, but you’ve already missed your chance for that.” Severus didn’t sound angry to her. Bitter, perhaps, but it was as if the man had already come to terms with these terrible realisations, realisations that had never even crossed Minerva’s mind. Guilt flooded through her. 

Severus was right. Minerva knew she hadn’t been as concerned for students of the other houses as much as she had her own, and she had loved James and Sirius despite all of their many misdemeanors. While she treated all of the students fairly, her fondness for her Gryffindors made her look out for them more than students of other houses. She nodded at the man across her. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for that. But - I am here now, at least. There are people that care about you, myself included. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this world.”

“Not alone?” Severus scoffed. “Minerva, don’t you understand? The future of the wizarding world depends on the fact that I _am_ alone. The future of the muggle world as well, if not more so. No one can know what it’s like for me. Not Albus, not you. At this point, the Dark Lord is my closest confidant… He knows more of the physical torment that I endure than anyone else.” Severus shook his head, the anger replaced by fatigue from the burden he was forced to bear. 

Minerva was at a loss. The grief, the sheer _helplessness,_ that she now faced was overwhelming. Her voice lacked all confidence as she tried to formulate an adequate reply. 

“You - I wouldn’t tell anyone. You have to know that. I would never give away any of your information, to Albus or the Dark Lord, or anyone else. I deeply regret not having recognised your need for a friend sooner.” Severus’s neck snapped up at the word _friend_. Minerva bent her head to the side, trying to understand the man. 

“Even if I wanted to…” Severus’s voice trailed off. “It’s not you that I cannot trust, it’s everyone else. There are ways to make people talk. Ways he could force you to tell him things about me. Confiding in you now would only stab me in the back later.”

Minerva understood. She was a powerful wizard, but she would never approach Severus’s command of Occlumency. _There are ways to make people talk._ Minerva wondered how many memories of torment surfaced in his mind when he spoke the words. 

It was clear that the conversation was over; there was a certain note of finality in Severus’s tone that told her she was no longer welcome in his quarters. Minerva paused before she opened the door to leave. “I’ll see you on the quidditch field tomorrow… You’re welcome to come to me for consolation then as well.”

* * *

“She’s horrible.” Snape slammed the door shut. Now that Potter and his friends had gone back to school and Sirius had the house all to himself, there was no longer any need for any silence or discretion. Snape appeared to be making the most of it. 

Sirius was about to ask who, but Snape wasn’t done. “Woman thinks she’s above the rest of us. Above Dumbledore, can you believe it?” He looked directly at Sirius for the first time, who felt a shiver pass through his body. Snape was angry, his manner uncontrolled. It was strange, rather unusual; Snape was usually dead calm in his anger. 

Sirius felt scared. 

When Sirius didn’t respond, Snape’s gaze softened, if only a little. His voice was on the edge of wobbling as he informed Sirius of the latest developments. “Umbridge. Dolores Umbridge. The ministry has infiltrated Hogwarts.”

It was the first time Sirius had ever seen Snape so untethered and the man’s reaction scared Sirius more than the information itself. Hogwarts being under the control of the ministry, though, that was cause for worry, especially since the ministry opposed the claims of Voldemort’s return. 

Snape was already removing his clothes so Sirius pulled off his shirt and trousers, but his mind wasn’t on sex. When Snape sat on the bed beside him, Sirius pulled the man into a loose embrace. Snape tensed, reaching instinctively to his side for his wand. Sirius almost let go; he feared Snape would hurt him for an act so out of character, but instead the man relaxed into him. Sirius almost pushed the man off of him, claiming to have had a momentary lapse in judgement and reminding Snape of how much he loathed the man. Instead, Sirius leaned back onto the headboard, and Snape didn’t pull away. Snape’s head rested on his stomach as Sirius’s hands clutched the man’s body. They breathed into the silence, neither knowing what to say to the other. 

Severus Snape wasn’t the type to be comforted, and Sirius had no idea how to do so. He wasn’t even sure if Snape was fearful or if this reaction was based on extreme annoyance. He tried to let go of his abhorrence towards Snape as he finally had the man where he wanted him. Sirius had wanted Snape to stay next to him, wanted someone, specifically Snape, to hold him and want him for more than sex, but now that he was, Sirius didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Snape pushed himself up, and Sirius was sure the moment had ended. Snape was looking directly into his eyes though, another bizarre event of the evening. 

“I don’t use you just for sex.” 

Sirius pulled back, wondering how Severus had known to say just that. Sirius was left reeling, wondering, had Snape developed the same sort of feelings he had? 

“I use you for other things.”

 _Oh._ Snape laughed quietly. Sirius tried not to let his extreme disappointment flood through him as Severus brought their mouths together. 

Sirius bit down on the man’s lip. The metallic taste of blood filled his senses before Snape pulled himself away, bringing his fist to Sirius’s face to punch him fiercely. Normalcy had returned at long last. 

Sirius was angry at Snape for no good reason. Angry that the man confused him in so many ways, angry that he was using Sirius simply for his own pleasure, though he knew that had been their agreement. 

He was angry that Snape didn’t seem to have the conflicting feelings Sirius had come to realise he had for the other man. Sirius wanted Snape to suffer, but a part of him just wanted to hold the man, to comfort him and chase all his demons away. That part he made an effort to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Phantomato for betting!!


	10. Capsized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: after-effects of torture, (minimal) mentions of blood.
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone who's reading this, I hope you enjoy.

_ Crucio.  _

_ Crucio.  _ He fell to the floor. 

_ Crucio.  _ He couldn’t get up this time.  _ Crucio.  _ He wanted to scream.  _ Crucio.  _ A cry escaped him.  _ Crucio. Crucio.  _ His body, he couldn’t feel it properly.  _ Crucio.  _ Why couldn’t he feel his legs, his arms?  _ Crucio.  _ He was letting it happen to himself.  _ Crucio.  _ His heartbeat -  _ Crucio.  _ Panic.  _ Crucio.  _ Panic engulfing him.  _ Crucio.  _ Where had his ability to breathe gone?  _ Crucio.  _ Darkness destroying him.  _ Crucio.  _

_ Crucio. Crucio, Crucio.  _ Why wouldn’t the words stop ringing through his head?

* * *

Severus opened his eyes. He took note of his surroundings. He could hear the infrequent gasps of air he took break through the stagnant space around him. He didn’t know where he was. 

The floor was cold. Severus shivered. His wand poked into his side, and he tried reaching for it, but his arm simply would not move. It felt detached from his body. Severus focused all of his little energy into his arm, knowing he had to get away. 

He had remembered where he must be: Malfoy Manor. They had left him on the floor.  _ I have to move, to leave, to get away, to get away from the manor, the headquarters. I needed to get away, far away, away to anywhere but here. _ The familiar sense of panic was returning and Severus could tell his breathing was turning unsteady, too fast. 

Severus’s arm finally moved. Pain wracked his body in powerful convulsions. 

The tremors felt unbearable, worse than any pain he had felt before. It was as if a waterfall of brittle and broken crystal fragments cascaded through his insides, pinching his veins and tearing at the inside of his skin. 

_ Stop, STOP,  _ Severus’s body screamed at him.  _ STOP.  _ It was pleading with him, begging him to remain motionless on the frigid stone floor.  _ STOP, stop.  _

He knew the pain would be worse if he didn’t get away. 

_ Tears.  _ They were hot on his cheeks as he pushed through the stabbing that afflicted his entire arm as he connected his fingers with his wand. 

_ Crack.  _ He was gone.

* * *

_ A scream.  _

A scream he didn’t think was his own, though he couldn’t be sure. It pierced the still air in which he laid motionless. 

Severus opened his eyes. How long had he been out this time? The scream, the figure now bringing her fingers to his wrist… Rosmerta?  _ Oh, no, _ Severus though as he realised that he had miscalculated his apparition. He had meant to land outside the gates of Hogwarts, but it seemed he had ended up in Hogsmeade instead, found by Rosemerta. 

She thought him dead. She checked for a pulse. Severus wanted to let her know he lived still, that he needed to find Albus, but he could not speak just as he couldn’t move.

He could only imagine what he looked like. He was lying on the ground, thorns poking into the side of his neck. His legs were pulled together, his hand pressed onto his stomach. He knew his clothes must be bloody; he had felt the warm liquid leaking out of him before he lost consciousness the first time.

_ The blackouts _ ... How long had he been out cold the first time? And the times after that? 

How many hours had passed between his brief moments of consciousness? 

The blood, that was why his hand was clutching his stomach. Severus was injured. How had he forgotten?  _ What else have I forgotten? _

A woman screamed again.  _ Rosmerta, that was her name. _ She was screaming words though, the anguished shriek wasn’t the same shocked release of fear she had emitted before. 

_ Oh _ , Severus realised,  _ She was screaming for help _ . Severus registered that while she had not found him dead, he was dying.

With that thought, reality faded away from him once more, his body finally releasing its grip on the living world. He had tried, had tried to make it through. 

_ I wasn’t strong enough. He was right. I’m weak.  _ Severus believed it would be his final thought. 

_ Weak. _

* * *

_ Voices.  _ There were voices whispering around him. Two people spoke in hushed voices, perhaps a third standing present as well.  _ Need to obliviate her _ , one of them said. 

Minerva. Minerva’s voice broke through the layers of fog in his mind. Severus choked back a sob. Minerva had found him, and she would know to take him to Albus. More importantly, he knew she would take care of him. 

Severus fought to stay aware of the situation. He wanted to know what was going on and what was going to happen to him. He knew he needed to figure out a way to force the words from his throat; he worried that Albus would be angry if the report was delayed any longer. 

Worry provoked past fears to come to light, fears that replaced his determination. He began to remember, the hazy memories drifting slowly up to the edge of his mind like a sailboat approaching an island through the wind. Too soon, the effort became too much for Severus’s mind to take. He gave up trying to make sense of his situation, and drifted into oblivion once more.

* * *

He was hurt, badly and beyond recognition. Rosmerta said she hadn’t known that it was Severus who she had found until she saw the Dark Mark branded on his forearm. Minerva could tell he couldn’t move or speak. She didn’t know what had happened to him, only knew the devastation she felt in regards to the man’s broken state. Never had she had imagined she would bear witness to such a controlled man lying in tatters on the coarse dirt, his legs curled up to his body. 

When Rosmerta had found him, Severus had been covered in blood and bile. His clothes weren't torn; they were frayed and shredded. They hardly covered his body, and his legs were already exposed to the cold of the winter air. His hair was tangled with leaves and matted against his forehead, covering one of his eyes. He was unconscious, his body shivering and bleeding out. 

Minerva was thankful Albus had brought her along to transport Severus back to the castle. The moment they found him, she rushed towards his motionless body, ignoring the vile smell he gave off. She began casting warming spells, trying to save him from the bitter cold of the November air. It was all she could do; she didn’t have any of the knowledge healers possessed. 

The feelings of helplessness bit into her soul. 

“We need to obliviate her. Obliviate Rosmerta.” Minerva choked the words out to Albus, pushing her rage away. Her first priority was Severus’s safety, which she knew would be compromised if she let her emotions get the best of her. 

Albus motioned for her to step away from Severus’s figure. Minerva watched as he shook his head slowly. He brought out his wand, stopping the bleeding before lifting the body into the air. He hovered limply, trailing behind Albus as he walked back to the castle. 

“Alert the Order.” Albus didn’t meet her eyes.  _ He knows I am angry _ , Minerva thought. “Minerva, do not give out any details. They need only to know that Severus was injured and is unable to share any news. Without this, there is no need for a gathering. The meeting is canceled.”

* * *

When Severus finally woke again, everything felt warmer. He almost drifted back into sleep; he felt immeasurably exhausted and the comfort he had been placed in was so unfamiliar. He thought that perhaps if he stayed asleep, he could lie there forever. 

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that he was in the hospital wing, where everything was safe. He was lying under heavy quilts, and someone’s strong arms were wrapped around him. The grasp of the arms was firm but gentle; they took care to not press against any of his wounds.

_ Wait -,  _ Severus thought,  _ No one in their right mind would have their arms around me.  _ Severus didn’t have anyone left that would hold him this way. 

The panic returned. Severus’s breathing began to quicken as his mind became alert. It was a trick, a trick the Dark Lord had played to lure him into a false sense of security. Severus was in danger. The memory of Minerva’s voice flashed through his mind, confusion following before the terrible realisation.  _ They had taken Minerva as well.  _

Severus tried to remove himself from the hold the arms had on him, but his body would not move under his command. The cruciatus curse. His body hadn’t healed itself yet. 

Severus realised with a start the gravity of his situation. He was unable to move his own body, unable to speak or to talk himself out of his situation. He tensed as his breath caught. Blood pounded fiercely in his ears. Since he had no control over himself, he could do nothing to stop it. His mouth was dry and his muscles were stiff as he fought to get air in his lungs. 

He watched spots dance in his eyes and his vision went blurry once more.  _ Help,  _ Severus’s mind cried out. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest as his eyes widened in fear. He opened his mouth to cry out for anyone, though he knew only Death Eaters would be around to hear him. Anything was better than this agonising fear, a fear that inhibited his body from functioning properly. He pushed a strangled cry out of his throat, but the rushing pain in his head shortly stopped him. 

_ No. NO. Stop, no. Stop, broke-, stop, stop.  _ Moving, speaking, words, sounds. Any attempt to alert someone else resulted in his insides cracking like dried clay, the feeling like jagged rocks running themselves down the walls of his chest cavities. 

“Hey,  _ hey,  _ I’m here, I’m here. Snape, you’re okay. You’re safe now, you’re safe, okay?” Sirius’s voice was soft. Gentle, just as his arms were. They held his body close. 

Severus’s chest unclenched itself of its own accord at the sound of Sirius’s voice, but his mind twisted in confusion. Mistrust surfaced almost instantly.

Severus didn’t know what to believe. It was possible, after all, that Sirius was a creation of Voldemort’s. Severus couldn’t turn himself to see if it was really Sirius, so couldn’t be sure it was real, if Sirius was real. It was easier to believe that he was stuck in a new form of torture than that the man was holding him in his arms. 

Those arms, those familiar arms. They certainly felt like Sirius’s arms. 

“Uuh, Professeur - I mean, Minerva - Snivels is - sorry,  _ Snape _ . Fuck, just - he’s awake.” _ It had to be Sirius _ , Severus realised. No one could have replicated the man’s discomfort with first names that accurately. Relief washed over him and his body started to relax itself. Severus couldn’t stop the tear from tracing down his cheek. Sirius was holding him, acting as if he cared for him. But Severus couldn’t be sure the expression of kindness was genuine, nor would he let himself hope that it was. 

_ Sirius somehow heard that I was hurt.  _ Severus tried to rationalise why Black was there with him, sharing his hospital bed.  _ He’s alleviating his guilt. Trying to make up for his past.  _

Severus couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius was only there to fuck him at his lowest. 

Sirius was in the same bed as Severus though.  _ He’s holding me,  _ Severus couldn’t forget.  _ Holding me. Holding me and trying to help me breathe.  _ Black was genuinely trying to help him through his pain. It was perplexing, and Severus simply could not figure it out. 

Minerva bustled into the room. Her bottom lip quivered as she bent over Severus, pressing a cold cloth on his forehead. 

“Oh, Severus -” Minerva began, but it seemed she could not finish her sentence. An avalanche of regret threatened to smother Severus. He had never meant to hurt her, never meant to yell at her. He wasn’t even truly angry at her for her part in his miserable childhood. He wanted to tell her how sorry he felt, but his inability to speak forbade it. 

“Shh, shh. Okay just - just breathe then. In and - yes, that’s it. Now out - good. Again now, breathe in… and out.” Severus was trying desperately to do as Sirius instructed him, but his body simply wouldn’t comply. His breaths remained short and ragged, but he realised that the pressure of Sirius’s hands on his back helped to anchor him. 

Severus wanted to speak, he had so much to say. He wanted to let Sirius know how much this meant to him, but he had questions as well. Why was he there? What the hell changed between them to make such a thing possible? 

Once Severus’s breathing evened out, Sirius pulled his hands away and stood, leaving Severus to repress the sob that caught in his throat.  _ Of course Sirius wasn’t sticking around,  _ he reminded himself. 

Minerva stayed, though. She was sitting near the side of his bed, her hands folded awkwardly in her lap. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself, but Severus hoped she knew that he was grateful for her company. It took him a moment to realise that Albus was standing in the corner, peering at him curiously over the tops of his half-moon glasses. 

“Severus,” Albus began slowly. Severus sensed the man’s guilt. “Are you able to speak to me yet?”

He opened his mouth. To his surprise, the pain had subsided considerably, if only in his throat. 

“I think,” Severus managed. His voice was scratchy, and the words brought him pain, but it was bearable. “Yes. Enough.”

Albus nodded. “Are you able to tell me what has put you in this state?” He paused, looking at Severus intently, his head tilted to the side as if trying to glean more information than what he asked for. “It might help Poppy find a cure, a remedy, to speed along your recovery.”

“Cruciatus. Cruciatus curse. And an intensity potion,” Severus mumbled. 

Albus pursed his lips. “Are you sure, Severus? The cruciatus curse - I have never seen -”

“Yes.” His own throat was beginning to strangle him again. “No one. No one -” Severus gulped. “No one has ever had it this much… this long. And survived.”

Albus looked shocked, although he shouldn’t have. Minerva gripped Severus’s hand, her face white. Sirius entered the room again and froze. He was carrying a small cup of water that threatened to overflow. 

Upon Sirius’s entry, Albus nodded curtly at Severus, his lips pressed together again to form a pained expression. “I shall ask Poppy for some relaxers.” 

He paused, unsure of how to express his sympathies. “Let me know if I can do anything to provide comfort for you, Severus.”

Albus turned to leave the room. As he reached the door, he looked back at Severus one last time. “Minerva has already expressed her anger and disappointment in me. I should have you know that I am aware of this failure on my part. You should have been better protected and for this I am deeply sorry.”

Minerva looked as if she was ready to punch the man in the face as he walked out the door, closing it softly behind him, but when she turned back towards Severus, her expression had transformed into something almost gentle. 

“Unless there is anything I can get you, I suppose I should leave the two of you alone. From what I understand, there may be much to discuss.” Minerva gave Severus a last sad smile and pat on the back as she followed the path Dumbledore had taken moments before. 

Silence hung heavily in the air as the latches clicked shut on the door. Sirius fidgeted with his hands, and Severus didn’t know how to express himself. He was surprised at Sirius - he didn’t understand the man or his actions, but he appreciated them nonetheless. 

“Do you want - can I hold you again?” He asked tentatively. Severus’s hatred for the man swung like a wrecking ball through his gratitude when Sirius finally spoke out.

“No you slimy bastard, are you out of your mind? Get the fuck away from me.” Severus hadn’t realised how weak his voice sounded until the words flew from his mouth. He wanted Sirius to stay, of course he did, but he could hardly admit this to himself. Verbal confirmation of such a thing was out of the question. 

If everything Sirius had done was only part of some elaborate prank, the pain would be infinitely worse if he came to understand how much Severus wished it to be real. 

Severus almost changed his mind, almost decided to apologise for his harsh words when he saw the hurt and confusion in the other man’s eyes. He looked pathetic. 

Sirius hadn’t left, but he hadn’t moved closer as Severus had secretly hoped he would. Severus knew he should turn away, should use his little strength to look away from the pitiful man, but every cell in his body begged him not to. He did anyway, positioning his body so that he would not be able to see how his actions affected Sirius. 

Crystals were falling, seeming to tear his skin apart from the inside. It was like being tortured again. As he began to recall the experience, Severus heard himself cry out, his jaw clenching and blood pounding in his head once more. 

“ _ Severus… What are we going to do with you now?” the Dark Lord taunted. Severus could see the manic gleam in his eyes, and braced himself for the pain that was guaranteed to come.  _

_ Instead though, the Dark Lord walked towards Severus. His footsteps were precise, but he seemed to put no effort into the motions. Finally, he got close enough that he could whisper in Severus’s ear.  _

_ “Curse me.” He laughed, a violent cackle that echoed through the chamber and bounced off the high ceilings. His voice grew louder and louder as he continued, no longer speaking directly to Severus but to everyone in the room. “If you can make me scream or sob, I’ll let you be the one to play -” he licked his thin lips, “-with dearest Charlie here.” _

_ It was a challenge, and he wanted to make sure everyone was aware of it. _

_ Severus would undergo pain in either scenario. He tried to think, to come up with a way to spare himself from the abuse, and save the cowering young girl as well. If Severus took the challenge - and hurt the Dark Lord - he would be punished for it. The Dark Lord didn’t actually believe that Severus had the power to hurt him - he planned to humiliate Severus before tearing his body and mind apart. If Severus succeeded, he would have to hurt an innocent muggle - and he would have the Dark Lord’s full rage and attention. If he failed, he would be humiliated. Laughed at, preyed upon and hated by all of his supposed fellow Death Eaters.  _

_ If Severus never even tried at all, Voldemort would kill the muggle and paint the walls with her blood.  _

_ Severus looked into the Dark Lord’s eyes, preparing to cast the curse. Knowing anything about Voldemort’s past, any harboured grudges or memories of hurt and emotional neglect would be necessary in breaking the man.  _

_ “Back away… from me,” Severus began slowly. Much to his surprise, his master did as he asked, a taunting smile pulling at the corners of his face. Voldemort bent his knees and placed his wand on the floor, raising his hands in supposed surrender.  _

_ “Crucio!” Severus said for the first time. Voldemort’s body seized, his arms writhing in pain momentarily. Seconds later though, he was laughing as he shook the pain off.  _

_ “Finished yet, Severus?” He turned his head towards another masked figure. “Lucius, oh Lucius - you should never have doubted my strength, my skills. How did little Severus manage to convince you -” _

“Crucio.” _ This time, Voldemort’s face fell slack. Fear flashed through his eyes before the agony overran his body. Severus lifted his wand and the sound of bones snapping reverberated eerily through the room. As a strange, strangled cry began to emit from his master, Severus broke his eye contact to look around the room. Shock plastered every face. Terror had imposed its presence through the room.  _

_ Severus knew he would be the one tasked with wiping their memories later. He knew there would be a terrible price to pay for the power he was finally exerting, but it didn’t stop satisfaction from reaching him.  _

_ Bellatrix had been right all those years ago - you really did have to mean it.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks once again to Phantomato for being a beta!  
> I have a one-shot and a new WIP, and I'm looking for someone to beta that as well. If you're interested and available, please message me on tumblr! :)


	11. Telling Secrets to the Stars

Severus’s body seized, his muscles contracting and hips arching as his back lifted from the mattress. 

Albus didn’t know what to do. He had never seen anything like it, the blankness that filled Severus’s eyes. The eyes were a notebook, a notebook intended to be filled with black ink, ink twisted into small cramped handwriting. Now though, someone had erased every word, every letter, from the pages. The eyes stood void of all emotion, all meaning. The usual thoughtful creases that graced their corners were gone.

He looked at Black, hoping he would know what to do. A part of Albus hoped that perhaps this had happened to Severus before, that Black would have experience with this situation. He pushed the thoughts away, realising how horrible it was to think it would be easier if Severus had gone through this before. Albus placed his hands on Severus's shoulders, attempting to calm the man, but the convulsions wouldn't stop. Minerva entered the room, instantly pushing him away. 

“There’s nothing you can do now,” she began, separating Albus from Severus and the bed he lay on, “you just have to let the seizure carry itself out.” 

Albus glanced at Sirius once more. His former student was trembling as well now, his arms wrapped around himself. Minerva shuffled towards him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. Albus watched as Sirius took in a deep breath. Hours seemed to pass as the three of them watched Severus, glancing occasionally at one another, wondering if there was anything that could be done. 

They all sensed that the end was near as Severus’s breaths stopped all together, Sirius secretly clenching Minerva’s hand to resist the urge to rush forward and try anything to make it stop. As Albus had no experience with this sort of thing, he felt it best to listen to Minerva, whose air of authority he greatly appreciated for once.

When Severus’s body stilled, his back pressed firmly into the mattress once again, though his wheezing remained desperate and painful to watch. Albus and Sirius turned to Minerva for instructions. Albus was bothered that she looked more frazzled than when she had first returned to the room, giving orders so strongly they had all instantly obeyed. Now, though, she ran a hand across her weary face as she turned towards Albus, breathing deeply to steady herself and her voice before speaking. 

“Tea, Albus. Prepare some tea for everyone.” Minerva’s voice was shaky, though she tried to mask its waver with confidence. Albus frowned, he could tell her main objective was to have him leave the room.

“I think it would be best if I remained present. Perhaps Mr. Black could-.”

“Now, Albus,” she snapped, and he surprised himself by obeying. It had been a long night, full of fear and guilt and heavy emotions. The opportunity for solitude would benefit him, offering a chance to process the events of the evening. As he exited the room, he saw Black leaning over Severus, his hands delicately cupping the man’s cheeks.

* * *

The tears were hot, the sensations they sent racing across his cheeks startling Severus. His first thought was that the salt would be bad for his skin, that he needed to wash the tears away as soon as possible. Severus had unnaturally dry skin, so dry that he purchased a muggle cream that he applied in the winters to keep his skin from cracking. Soon though, the thoughts of his skincare were replaced with confusion. He had been trying to stop the tears, wondering how he was crying without even having opened his eyes. Finally though, he opened them, letting the light in and nearly jumping back at the sight of Black’s face hovering above his own, realising that the tears were not his own. 

Black was letting his emotions fall onto his cheeks, their warmth stinging his skin and ruining his clear complexion. Something about this, this open gesture of affection, this demonstration that Black cared for him, caused a sob to catch in Severus’s throat. 

Nearly as soon as he opened his eyes, Black gasped in what he supposed was relief, his hands pressing themselves onto Severus’s pale cheeks, wiping away the tears he spilt. Black’s palms were cool, unusually so. Normally Black’s hands were warm, his life and energy coursing through him and by extension, onto Severus. 

Severus could hear Black talking to someone, perhaps even to him, but he couldn’t process the words. The memories he had just relived were still fresh and painful, forcing themselves against the walls of Severus’s head, the growing pressure unbearable. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel the same way as I do.” Sirius drew his hands away, and Severus was frightened by how much the act upset him. Sirius continued, “I just got caught up. That was so scary, Severus, I just- I’m sorry for touching you.”

“I do… Stay. I don’t mind it.” Severus murmured groggily. Vultures swooped down and pecked at his mind, leaving him with no energy to pretend at hatred and annoyance. 

As he rose into consciousness, absorbing his surroundings and regaining minimal control over his body and mind, he pushed his memories back to where they belonged, to where he wouldn’t have to think or deal with them until months later, until whenever he felt he felt himself capable of dissecting them indifferently, as though they were not his memories but those of someone he had never met. He would wait, until he could view his memories as if they were a film he'd seen but once before. It was what he did most often - leaving the memories in a drawer of his mind he rarely approached, gingerly taking one memory out at a time to observe as if he had not lived through the scenes, separating himself from the horrors that had been done to him. 

He nearly let himself cry, something he had sworn not to do, at the sight of Minerva. She approached him, her face wrinkled with worry but so familiar and loving and kind. 

“Severus, oh _,_ what did you get yourself into this time?” Minerva’s words flowed sweetly through his entirety, beginning to wash away some of his pain, some of the lies he had told himself and believed to be true. Her words themselves, though, haunted him. It pained him to see how his injuries brought pain and worry to the few people in the world he still cared for. He could see the agony he was causing Minerva, who bent over him, wiping his forehead with a cloth again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his throat a broken elevator that sighed heavily as it tried to reach the top floor. Minerva stopped, and Severus stiffened, wondering what he could possibly do to make everything better rather than worse.

“Oh dear - no, I didn’t mean it that way at all. No, no. This isn’t your fault, it’s never your fault.” Severus wanted to tell her the truth, that it had been him, his pride and selfishness, his fear of pain and the torture he was too familliar with, that had gotten the best of him and rendered him a useless pile of flesh and blood and bone that Minerva regretfully felt obliged to tend to. 

Minerva looked at him directly, her grey eyes so sincere that Severus longed to believe them. “Severus,” she murmured, “it’s never your fault. It’s not your fault, I promise you.”

Then Sirius was at his side too, and he didn’t know where to look, who to direct his attention towards. Sirius’s hair was messier than usual, falling in tangled loops across his shoulders. He was eyeing Minerva nervously, biting on his lower lip as a child would and wringing his hands in turmoil. 

“Severus,” Black said the name tentatively, “is there anything I can do for you?”

 _Hold me, touch me, keep me here and away from them. Just hold me, hold me, please hold me,_ Severus wanted to scream. He craved contact, craved Sirius, really, if he were to be honest with himself. He wished desperately that Sirius would volunteer his body, would hold him as he had before and touch him without repulsion, would run his hands delicately through the hair that he hated, and would place his soft kisses on his cheeks and his neck, gripping his hand as he breathed into the silence, silence that would no longer feel like a void because Sirius would be there to fill it, breathing evenly into that space. 

_Sirius._ Was the man Sirius now, rather than simply Black? Had something changed between them, so much so that Severus saw him so differently, his perception of the man so altered that even the name by which he thought of him had been changed? 

“Are you comfortable?” Black asked again, but Severus still didn’t know how to respond. He should have been comfortable, he wanted to be, but his skin remained sticky with echoes of days before the present, his scars reminders of those he had let wrong him. He could nearly forget them with Sirius. In those seconds in his arms, he could almost let himself believe he was deserving of that warmth and care, of that sense of security that would envelop him and blow away the cold that settled in his stomach when he laid awake, alone. 

He was taking too long, wasting away in the luxury of time, Black continuing to look at him expectantly. 

“Please,” he breathed, unable to ask for what he truly desired.

Sirius looked at him for only a moment before sitting on the bed next to Snape. His hand reached under the sheets, searching until it found Snape’s, locking his fingers around the cold fist. Snape lifted his chin and brought it down again - not quite a nod, but a sign, Sirius hoped, that he was doing something right. 

Sirius thought about what he would want if he was hurt and scared, needing only a moment’s reflection before he slipped off his slippers and pulled himself into the bed next to Snape. The man stiffened, nearly causing Sirius to pull away, but he felt Snape’s cold hand weakly squeeze his own.

Sirius pulled Snape’s head into the crook of his neck, fitting the man’s body into him. He stretched one of his arms under Snape’s bony back, feeling him slowly relax. Snape didn’t move himself closer, didn’t adjust the position to fit his needs, but he didn’t pull away, which Sirius took to mean that he was content. Sirius could feel the scratches and scarred skin on the back of the man’s arm, could feel the way Snape was gently shaking but trying to make it stop.

“Are you comfortable?” Sirius asked again. He smiled at Minerva, who smiled back. Sirius wanted to sigh in relief. Earlier, when Snape had been asleep in his arms, she had approached him, sitting carefully on the edge of Snape’s bed. She had watched them for a minute, a long minute during which Sirius’s fear of rejection manifested as nausea. 

_Are you happy?_ Minerva had finally asked him. He thought long and hard, realising that no, he wasn’t happy, that happiness had become foreign to him since Azkaban. But he realised as well that he felt better, happier even, when Snape was around him, scowling and halfheartedly telling him he was doing everything wrong. He had told this to Minerva, who had smiled, sadly, tears bordering her eyes. 

_You’re important to me,_ Sirius added, very cautiously. He was afraid that there were boundaries between them, boundaries he wasn’t sure how he could go about crossing, or if they should ever be prodded at at all. For as long as Sirius could remember, he had looked to Minerva for advice, for comfort. She had been a consistent part of his life, her strict, unwavering kindness over the years so precious to Sirius that he wasn’t sure if he could ever put his appreciation into words. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to express it. But he had wanted to try to make that effort, because he doubted that many people gave Minerva McGonagall the compliments and reassurances she deserved. 

_You’re important to me,_ Sirius had said, but the words carried so much more meaning. Minerva had been more of a mother to him than his own had, had always cared for him and encouraged him to do better, to focus more on his studies so that he could make something of himself in the real world. She had believed in him and his aspirations when few others had. Even James and Remus and Peter had laughed when he said he wanted to be an auror, had assumed he was kidding. She had listened to him as he cried in his first year, sobbing about how his brother was alone with his parents in the large empty house, alone to learn to cope with the screams that would fill the halls of the Black family manor. 

She had offered him tea rather than reprimanding him, in his second year, when she had found him crying in the Owlery, long after he should have been in the dormitories. Sirius had blocked words his mother had sent him out of his head, but the feelings that accompanied them were impossible to do away with entirely. He recalled the shuddering sobs that wracked his body, the way he hadn’t even tried to stop them as he brought his head up from between his knees to see Minerva standing in the doorway. 

_You’re important to me,_ Sirius had said, only hours ago, and Minerva had smiled. She had smiled in a way he had never seen before, a smile so pure she looked like someone entirely new, someone who’d lead an easier life that overflowed with simple joys and pleasures.

 _And you to me, more than you might realise,_ Minerva had replied, her eyes still crinkled, and they had left it at that. The warmth of her words had filled Sirius, had left him feeling brighter than he had in months and months and years.

“Thank you. Thank you, Sirius,” Snape said, and Sirius felt his emotions welling inside him once more as Severus spoke his name.

* * *

Albus had long finished preparing the tea, adding sugar to his cup and to Sirius’s as well, and cream to all of the steaming mugs. He never understood Severus’s reluctance in regard to adding cream, though the man had been that way as long as Albus could remember. He knew that Severus enjoyed it, though: whenever Albus offered it directly, Severus would accept with something as close to enthusiasm as anyone had seen from the man.

The tea had been ready for a while, but Albus had taken an additional moment to collect his thoughts. Eventually, he had come to the conclusion that he could not make any decisions until he knew what had been done to Severus, and so he had picked up the tea and began to head towards the room in which the man had been concealed. He had originally been in one of the beds in the hospital wing, but with other students frequenting the area, he had been quickly moved to avoid any suspicion or questions that could arise. Rumours traveled quickly through Hogwarts, and as Albus thought it best to avoid Severus’s fury - especially with everything that was going on - they had moved him to a set of private quarters on the second floor. 

As he entered the room, unlatching the door that led into the main part of the campus, he noticed that Severus was tightly wrapped in Sirius’s arms once more. He wished he could say that this surprised him, though he thought it all completely understandable in many ways. Black had always obsessed over Severus, and once they crossed the line from hate to something more, something deeper, Albus didn’t find it hard to believe that their relationship had intensified quickly, that they had found in it a connection. 

Minerva was the first to notice his presence, and Severus soon after, tensing and pulling himself up into a sitting position. Black sat himself up as well, keeping his arms around Severus protectively, at which Albus had to resist smiling.

Albus set the tray of tea down, and one of the cups he filled too high sloshed slightly over the edge. He handed Minerva her cup - which she sipped gratefully, mummering her thanks and approval - then Black, then finally Severus, whose unsteady hands couldn’t hold the mug properly. He watched as Severus ended up handing the cup to Sirius, who held it steady as Severus slowly took a sip, the act so natural, as if Black had been holding tea and helping Severus drink all of their lives. 

Finally, Albus broke the silent tranquility. “Severus, I’m so sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to tell me what exactly they did to you.”

He waited for a moment, then added, “Specifically.”

Severus swallowed, preparing himself to speak. 

“Do you want me to go away?” Black asked him, and Albus could hear the concern in his tender voice.

“No - please stay,” Severus replied instantly. “If you want to, that is,” he added as an afterthought. Clearly the dynamics of their relationship were undiscussed, Albus remarked to himself. 

“The Dark Lord was displeased with developments that recently unfolded, of a source of power that had recently come to light. These details are not relevant.” Severus spoke monotonously, his words an emotionless stream of information. “I believe I have already told you most of what followed. The Dark Lord chose to punish me. He performed the Cruciatus Curse on me until-.”

Severus stopped speaking, choking on his words. Albus wouldn't push further. If anything else had happened, Severus wasn’t going to tell him, and he was sure that asking again would only anger the man and prolong his recovery.

With a sigh, Albus left the room once more, forgetting all about the tea he had made for himself in his haste.

* * *

“Are you-," Sirius frowned. Severus’s heart pounded in his chest. He had known Sirius would come to ask him about it. About the torture, about his role in serving the Dark Lord. About it all; curiosity was in Black’s nature.

Minerva had left the room silently, following Albus as he departed. Severus had been left alone with Sirius for the first time, and he wasn’t surprised at what he believed Sirius to be asking. 

“Am I able to Crucio. That’s what you were going to ask,” Severus said quietly. He had to force the words out. He heard them punctuate the silence in the air, but his voice didn’t sound like his own. Sirius nodded and looked away. Severus swallowed, trying to steady himself. He needed to make it through this conversation. He was wise enough to know that if he didn’t answer Black’s questions, they would fester in the other man’s mind and would weigh on his own.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “You need to know pain to do that to another. Anger, tragedy. It - the curse - it doesn't only break down everything in your body. If done correctly, it will force the victim to -.” Severus swallowed again. Sirius was looking at him again, those dark eyes shadowed with sorrow. 

“If the Cruciatus Curse is performed correctly, with the true intention of inflicting deep pain, it will force the victim to relive their worst memories, in addition to physical pain. It’s purpose is to drive the victim to insanity, to a state of frightening madness that is nearly impossible to reverse.” Severus regretted his explanation as soon as the words left his mouth. He still hadn’t given an answer to Black’s inquiry, and answering would be much more difficult with Black knowing the full extent of the damage the curse caused. 

Black tried to reach forward, to wrap his arms around the pained man as he had before, but Severus pushed the advances away. He needed to finish what he had begun. 

“Yes. I can Crucio.” Severus paused. The look of horror that had flashed briefly across Sirius’s features sent a stab to his heart. _Of course he’s appalled. Scared even, as anyone would be,_ Severus reminded himself. He needed to explain himself, explain to Sirius that he didn’t break people as he had been broken. 

“Sirius - _Black -”_

“Sirius. I like Sirius.” 

Severus nodded. He swallowed again. _Just explain it,_ he thought. 

“I never do, though. I don’t ever willingly do that. Not when I need information, not as a defense. I would never do that to another person.” Severus rushed his words, trying to lay it all out for the other man, who nodded in relief. 

_He doesn't know it all yet. He doesn't understand that I_ have _, though, that I’ve been made to._ Severus pushed himself away from Sirius. He wanted to close himself off. _It doesn't matter what Black ends up thinking of me,_ Severus told himself, and forced himself to believe it. 

“Sirius I have. I have used it on people. I have.” Severus needed his truth to be laid out, whether Black would embrace or reject him for it. 

Confusion flashed across Sirius’s face, but he didn’t back away in repulsion. Severus almost let himself breathe in relief, but chose to push onwards instead. Sirius was right to be confused, Severus’s statements contradict one another. 

“I’ve only done it when he’s made me. The Dark Lord. I’ve been made to use the curse on people to prove myself to him, to prove my loyalty. He’s made me use it as a punishment.” Severus paused. His voice became small. “Or because he wanted to… observe.”

“Why would -” Sirius looked at Severus. He didn’t understand. “Why would he want to observe you cursing someone else? For his own pleasure - the torture as a spectacle? I mean, is it just because he wants to know if you could do it or…” Sirius trailed off, expecting Severus to fill in the gaps in his comprehension. 

Severus couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Sirius, the new joy he had found that brightened his miserable life. If he explained it, Sirius would back away from him. Severus would never feel those arms around him again, never be allowed to lay his head on the other man’s chest. A part of him _did_ want Sirius to know, but he couldn’t be the one to tell him. He couldn’t sabotage the one freeing aspect of his life. 

Severus looked at Sirius, tears bordering his eyes. His eyes implored Sirius to figure it out, to _just_ please _connect the pieces of the puzzle together_. He looked at Sirius as if it were the last time he would be permitted to gaze into those eyes, the last time he could look at the man’s striking face without shame. 

If Sirius worked out the truth, he would surely see Severus as a monster. As a broken soul, hiding in a suit of skin. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

If he didn’t though, if Sirius was left to believe that Severus had used the curse as a form of entertainment for the Dark Lord, Severus would not be able to live with the hatred he held for himself. He would eventually end up telling Sirius anyways.

“Because I’m better than him. He has made me hurt them, he’s made me torture them until they arn’t _right_ anymore, he makes me do it to them because he can’t figure out why I can do it better than him.” The words tumbled out of his mouth hurriedly. Sirius froze to the chair he sat in. 

The tears didn’t need to push themselves out of the eyes that held them as Severus was letting them fall. He was letting them fall for Sirius, for those he had shattered, for the wreckage it had done to his soul. For his losses, new and old, for the victims of his own cruelty, for his splintered mind that couldn’t bear to think of moving forward without Sirius, though he knew he would have to learn to. Severus was finally letting himself cry, letting the tears flow down his cheeks. 

He didn’t stop to wipe the salt away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you guys enjoy my writing I also posted a short one-shot with some sassy Snape, check it out!  
> Thank you again for reading ♥️


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